#a little something something from my Gale origin run :")

[madbalalaika]

#“but I know that this... this is nice” #a little something something from my Gale origin run :") #once I got this scene I immediately went to paint it #it hit me real hard ugh #aaaaa #bg3 fanart #baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #gale dekarios #bloodweave #art #fanart #digital art #I've been staring at the references of velvet clothes this whole time #i still don't understand how velvet works

[parvulous-writings]

Did you get another request? It's headcanons for Astarion, Gale, and Halsin react to his shy gn crush confessing to him before running away because they're scared of being rejected. Thanks!

Okay I DID get the original request, but accidentally published it when I meant to put it in my drafts, apologies! I'd like to thank the Down By The River Music Box Version for giving me the focus I needed to do this in one sitting! XD Also these three are my BOYS I LOVE THEM

Warnings: None! (besides fluff)

Notes:  My requests are currently open! My pinned post (found here) contains both a list of characters I write for, and a masterlist!  Original character list - please request for these too!

Astarion

Before you even start the conversation with him about liking him, Astarion knows what this is going to be about. He just knows - he's been through this enough times to recognise that look on your face.

It's an easy conclusion to come to - to him, it's a thought of... 'who doesn't like him?' He's hardly known someone that he couldn't tempt, one way or another.

As you approach him, his lips are already curling up into that familiar sultry smile of his. He knows exactly how he wants to play this: "Well, well... If it isn't my favourite travelling companion... What brings you to my tent, my dear?"

You feel your cheeks burn as soon as he opens his mouth, your gaze casting aside as the words hit your ears. He always seems to know how to take someone's breath away.

You blurt out your confession as fast as your lips can manage, nothing more than a mash of words, hardly understandable - but Astarion understands with ease. He's been through this a lot, he knows the dance all too well. Before he can let a chuckle leave his throat, you're gone, leaving naught but a cloud of dust in your wake.

Nevertheless, had you been within earshot of the elf, you would have heard a rather dry laugh from his lips. To have someone turn tail from him, it's new. Something about the situation speaks to him though - it shows that, even after he's seen two hundred years of nothing but shadows and debauchery, there's still innocence in the realms. And he sees that it lives on in you. It's almost... endearing to him. Almost. Unfortunately it takes a lot to make his undead heart stir, anymore.

Unlike most, Astarion doesn't chase after you - he doesn't even consider it. In his past, he's never been one to chase after someone who likes him, he's always a magnet for them. He stays comfortably in his tent, eagerly awaiting your return. He knows you will, no matter how shy you are, or how long it takes.

Such a sweet thing... I'm sure they'll come around to speaking more openly eventually. Astarion's thoughts echo all that he knows from his past - one way or another, those who are charmed by him come back; though, he must admit, he does quite like the idea of playing this little game with you, whether you realise you are playing or not.

Gale

Gale doesn't really label your timid nature or actions as 'shyness', he sees it much more as an air or aura of mystique about you - which he absolutely loves. His scholarly instinct tells him to dive in, to explore all there is about you, and to uncover all of your mysteries. However, he knows you are your own person - if you wish to tell him any secrets you have, he's going to let you do so mostly at your own pace, only nudging or prompting once or twice.

When you approach him one evening, he's so over the moon to tell you about something he's recently figured out, relating to a problem you've been trying to solve outside of camp, that he doesn't initially notice the rather skittish demeanour you've adopted. He's so quick to launch into his little pre-planned speech that he hardly notices you talking to him, until you've already run halfway back to your own tent.

Gale just... Stands there, in stunned - almost offended - silence. Had he done something? Was it his recent discovery? Had he launched into it too quickly - given you too much information all at once? All these thoughts go through his head one after the other. He hadn't even caught what you had said, and that worried him the most: He had no clue whatsoever what you had said to him.

So it isn't long before he's practically marching towards your tent - determination in his eyes. He will find out what you had tried to tell him. He clears his throat to get your attention when he gets close enough, folding his arms over his chest in a rather defensive position. "I suppose you have a reason for running off like that whilst speaking to me?" He questions, quite tensely. As you begin to shakily explain your feelings for him, his arms drop to his sides again.

He's very pleasantly surprised to learn that the only reason you ran off mid-conversation was due to embarrassment, rather than anything that he had done. He would hardly have been able to live with himself if that particular question had gone unanswered. So, he settles himself down in front of you. "Alright.. How about we try this again... With you having my full attention this time?"

Halsin

Halsin could tell by the look on your face that whatever you wanted to tell him, it was important. Of course, true to his nature, he wasn't about to force it out of you - he's much more content for you to take your time in telling him.

So, he just sits with you, in a peaceful silence, waiting for you to work up your courage to ask him. And when you finally do, Halsin can't say he's shocked by the words - it's not always easy to hide attraction or love from someone who's been alive for over three centuries. What does surprise him, however, is the fact that you're so quick to flee the encounter. Though, he finds it quite sweet that you, unlike him, still have embarassment hinging around socialising - particularly when it is centering around matters of the heart. He doesn't think any less of you for it, a skill like that takes years of practice, and he's had three hundred and fifty years to hone this skill of his.

Throughout all his life, and his many lovers, this kind of thing has happened to him only a handful of times, so it still catches him off-guard most of the time. Thankfully, he knows how to handle the situation.

He gives you some time to yourself, allowing you to collect your thoughts. He knows that if he tries to approach you too quickly, you may become more frazzled, spiral more in your mind. And that is the last thing he wants. If you two are to be with one another - which he hopes is the outcome of the situation - he wants you to have a clear head, and know what you want.

When he does decide it's the right time to go to you, the first thing he does, is ask if you are alright. "How are you faring, my heart?" He takes a chance with the nickname, and he can just about see with the way your head whips round to look at him that he's certainly caught your attention. "You seemed... Out of yourself, before. Perhaps you would like to discuss it?" He moves to sit with you then, and even as he kneels , he towers over most. "At your own pace, of course..." He offers you a smile. It's a kindhearted smile - one that you can tell is straight from his heart. You feel a little more comfortable, and though it is a slow conversation, you get there before dawn.

#requests open #x reader oneshot #x reader requests #headcanons #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 x reader #bg3 headcanons #bg3 #astarion x reader #astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 gale #halsin x reader #halsin headcanons #halsin baldur's gate 3 #halsin bg3

[mumms-the-word]

Ascension, Return

Pairing: Gale x You (Reader POV) Summary: You watch as Gale restores the Crown of Karsus and temporarily becomes a god before disappearing to return the crown to Mystra. And you can only hope, now that he is a god, that he will return. ao3 link A/N: I was thinking the other day about how in the ending for an Origin run for Gale, regardless of how he plans to deal with the crown business, he always shows up as God!Gale in front of Mystra before agreeing to hand over the crown or deciding to stay a god. And it got me thinking...wouldn't a romanced Tav who is expecting him to give up the crown see him ascend? So anyway I wrote this to get those thoughts out there. As usual pic of my Tav Dani because I keep forgetting to ask to borrow people’s better pictures

It doesn’t take long for you and Gale to make plans to retrieve the crown from the depths of the Chionthar River. The sooner you get this over with, the better, you think, and yet something about this endeavor has you on edge. You secretly wish you can just leave the crown down below the waters…but then, anyone could get it down there, with the right spells or the right technology. You can’t risk that.

You don’t want it in Mystra’s hands either, but what choice do you have? She, at least, is a goddess interested in balance, neither evil like the Dead Three, nor entirely good and thus subject to extreme corruption. There’s no telling what she’ll do with the crown, but she has offered one thing in exchange—a cure for your lover’s affliction.

He’ll be free of the dark hungering orb at last.

It’s enough to convince you. You retrieve your worn bedrolls from the Elfsong and shoulder your pack, ready for your next little adventure—a small boat ride to the other side of the river, and a few days spent with Gale as he searches the murky waters.

You join him on the banks of the Chionthar, well away from the bustle of the city as it is trying to rebuild, watching over him as he sits, eyes glazed with concentration, guiding simulacrums to walk the riverbeds and floors of the river, combing through the mud for the crown. He could have let his simulacrums search without him guiding them, but he wants to be sure, to search closely. He doesn’t want to waste his time turning away simulacrums who bring back scraps of metal, shrapnel from the Iron Throne, or bits from the carnage of the fight against the Netherbrain. So he looks through their eyes, seeing nothing for hours but hazy water, mud, and river plants.

Though you long to lie back and watch the sails of fishing vessels drift by like clouds on the breeze, reveling in a hard-won moment of peace, you don’t want to miss a moment where he might need you. You do not want him to be caught unawares by some curious animal, or worse, a lingering enemy. So you sit and watch, your stomach twisting into knots as you face what you know will be inevitable—the moment when he finally finds the crown.

It takes all of two days of searching. After hours upon hours of looking, he stiffens, his physical body reacting to something beyond your sight, and you know at last that he has found it. You both stand as his simulacrum emerges, dripping water, with the cold bronze of the crown in its hands. 

The Crown of Karsus.

It’s so much smaller than you remember. When you faced it on the top of the Netherbrain it had easily been the size of a large carriage. Here, on the banks of the Chionthar, it’s no bigger than a normal crown. It looks innocent. Harmless.

But you know better.

The power it releases…you are no stranger to it. You readily recall the metallic taste on your tongue as you drew near it atop the Netherbrain and the way its very aura tried to drive you to your knees. Its power is weaker now, pulsating from the bronze metal like a faint heartbeat, but you know that it won’t stay that way.

You glance at Gale, wondering what you’ll see in his face. Dark hunger, perhaps, or something bittersweet. Reluctance, dread, or tired resignation. But his expression is surprisingly neutral. He doesn’t step forward to take the crown just yet. Instead, he studies it with his eyes before taking a deep breath through his nose and turning to look at you.

“Do you trust me?” he asks.

You blink, a little taken aback. “Of course,” you say. “Always.”

“That’s gratifying to hear. It will take me some time to restore the crown and the Netherstones to their original state, fit enough to give to Mystra. The process will be necessarily delicate, given the orb I carry. I should ask you to keep a safe distance. A city’s worth of space, perhaps, just in case, but—”

You cross your arms. “I’m not leaving your side, Gale. I’m here with you, for good or ill.”

He smiles then, as much relieved as he is amused and resigned. “I know. I expected as much. But I thought it best to offer or warn you regardless.” He takes a deep breath. “Very well, then. We stay together. I just hope you’ll be patient with me.”

You reach out and take his hand, threading your fingers between his. “I will be. I’m here for you. Take all the time you need, my love.”

He gives you a grateful look, squeezing your hand affectionately before leaning in to brush a sweet, gentle kiss against your lips. You let him pull away, slipping out of reach, and watch with bated breath as he steps forward to accept the crown, the mark on his chest glowing brighter and brighter as he nears and finally takes the crown in his hands.

You don’t know what you expect. A light show, perhaps. A wave of dark, Netherese magic, or a black hole effect. You steel yourself to the fear that he will simply evaporate or fall to his knees in pain.

But nothing spectacular happens, aside from his mark glowing brightly. To your eyes, the crown acts as little more than a normal crown. To him…

You see his chest expand with a deep breath, the orb flaring brighter, watch him blow the air slowly through his lips, his face tense. But without the tadpole in your heads, you can’t guess at what he’s thinking or feeling. He closes his eyes, simply breathing, concentrating. Fighting, perhaps. Wrestling with some unseen force. The glow on his chest dims slowly until it is only a faint purple tint on his skin. Only then does he finally tighten his hold on the crown and turn back to you.

You get the sense that he has just won a silent, unseen battle within himself. It occurs to you too late that putting the crown and the orb in close proximity might actually hurt him. But it seems that the danger has passed...for now. If he’s in pain, he isn’t showing it.

“Come,” he says. “Let us make sure we’re a safe distance from the city. Just in case.”

His words don't inspire confidence, but you say nothing. You merely follow him back to your camp further up hillside. You know he has work to do.

———

You give him time. That’s all he asked for. Time to concentrate on the magic. Time to manipulate threads of the Weave. The Mystran Weave and the Karsite Weave. Sometimes you think you understand what he’s doing, but more often than not, you don’t. The magic he is performing is beyond your comprehension, guided by notes in the Annals of Karsus which lays open in front of him. You suspect some of it comes innately to him, an understanding born from carrying Netherese magic for so long. The rest must come from Karsus himself, written down as instructions or incantations. You give up trying to understand and simply make yourself useful. Or you try to, anyway.

All you can really do is linger nearby, keeping an eye out for anything that might interrupt his work. You barely interrupt him yourself, save to place some food and water near him with a soft reminder that he needs to eat to keep his energy up. He’s not a god yet, you tease, but the words taste sour on your tongue.

Yet. But soon.

You don’t feel ready for it. You know it’ll only be temporary. You hope so, anyway. But you’re still not ready.

The day passes by without you noticing. Gale sits with the crown, working, weaving, an illuminated aura around him filled with heavy magic. You leave him to his work as the sun moves slowly overhead toward the horizon, painting the sky in tones of orange, red, and purple. You lay down to watch the swirls of violet and indigo magic that gather around him as night falls, until in your exhaustion, you close your eyes for a moment to rest.

You don’t know when you drifted off to sleep, but you’re awoken in the early hours of the morning by his hand on your shoulder. You stir, blinking groggily up at him.

“It’s time,” he says softly. He helps you sit up, hands lingering on your arms, your hands. The crown isn’t with him, but sits on top of his pack several feet away. “I’ve done all I can. The stones and the crown are together again. Functionally the crown is complete, but…there is one last step I need to take.”

He kneels in front of you, dark eyes searching your face in the dim firelight. No, you realize. Memorizing. You feel a sudden knot in your throat and though you are seated safely on the ground, it feels as though a yawning void is opening up around you, threatening to swallow you whole should you tip too far to one side.

This feels like a goodbye.

“Once I put on the crown, the magic of the orb will finally combine with that of the crown. And I will…change,” he explains quietly, while you try to calm the surge of fear that grips your heart. “The magic of the crown and orb will become one and give me the power at last to meet with Mystra as an equal.”

An equal. He doesn’t say as a god. But you both know the truth.

You can scarcely breathe. You want to trust him. You want so desperately to believe in him. And he is looking at you so lovingly, but the very air seems tinged with sorrow. Nothing is certain. Nothing save his love for you, and even then, the tiniest doubt worms its way into your head and your heart.

Once he is a god…will he even remember to come back to you?

“And then?” you ask, your voice no more than a whisper.

“And then…I will hand the crown over to Mystra. And hope she keeps her word.”

You release a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “I trust you, my love.” You use the words, saying them out loud, to dispel your doubts and fears. You do trust him. With your life, with your heart, with your all.

If only you could trust Mystra. Can she be trusted to cure him? Can she be trusted to let him return? And if he does return, can she be trusted to let him return unchanged? Chosen or not, will he still be Gale Dekarios, the man you love? You don’t know. But you hope so.

He smiles at you and brushes the backs of his fingers against your cheek, his fingertips trailing along the line of your jaw. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

He leans in for a kiss and you, selfishly, wrap your arms around him and hold him tightly to you as your lips move against his, wanting to never let go. You rise to your knees, following him as he tries to pull away, kissing him deeply, tangling your fingers in his hair, until at last you are both breathless and you have to hide your face in his shoulder. You cling to him, reluctant to let him go just yet.

“Just come back to me,” you whisper. “Whatever happens.”

His arms tighten around you and you feel the bob of his throat as he swallows with difficulty. He strokes your hair and your back, pressing little kisses to your shoulder, your neck, your head. You can feel it in every touch and breath he takes. He doesn’t want to let go yet either. 

“I will, my love,” he whispers back. “I swear it.”

It’s enough for now. It has to be. You could delay this day for a thousand days and still never be ready to let him go. But you have to. If he wants to be whole again, free of the orb, perhaps even free of Mystra…he has to do this.

You reluctantly loosen your hold on him and sit back on your heels, meeting his dark-eyed gaze in the early hours of the morning. He takes your hands and lifts them to his lips, brushing kisses against your knuckles, turning your hands over to kiss the center of your palms. Each touch of his lips to your skin is a reverent confession of love and longing and it only makes your heart ache more.

Please don’t let this be goodbye.

“Wait for me,” he says.

You cradle his cheek in your hand, gazing earnestly at him, soaking in every detail of his handsome face, committing it all to memory. “I will, my love. I swear it.”

He smiles at you then, full of love and happiness. He steals one last kiss from your lips before finally pulling away and standing, taking several steps back.

You stand too, preparing yourself for what is about to happen, even though you scarcely have any idea. You expect some of what you expected before, with light shows and waves of magic at best, disintegration and death at the worst, but now it feels even more real. Even more likely. You don’t know what will happen, so you brace yourself for the worst, heart pounding in your throat, gut churning with dread, and hope, desperately hope, for the best, even though you don’t know what that will look like.

You hold your breath as he moves several paces away from you and bends to pick up the crown. This image, too, you commit to memory. The way he looks illuminated by the firelight, the lights of the city glimmering behind and below him, the stars glittering above him. The sight of him with the crown in his hands, contemplating it with an expression of deep gravity. The crown looks small and harmless, despite the sharp curls and the soft glow of the purple, orange, and pink Netherstones that are now set once more in the bronze. But he looks serious, regal even, with it cradled in his hands. Like a king mulling over the weight of his position and the choices that lay ahead. He is beautiful. Heart-achingly beautiful. You wish this moment could stretch on forever, if only because it means not losing him to the crown. To godhood.

He turns to give you one last lingering look, your eyes meeting over the distance between you, before he slowly raises the crown to his head and settles it over his brown and gray locks.

The effect is instantaneous. A blast of magic blows outward from him, kicking up wind and dust and flashing bright enough to rival the sun. You cover your eyes, shielding your face, the light blinding you. Suddenly the air feels electric, tasting of metal and ozone, as though you’re about to be struck by lightning at any second. Wind swirls around you, picking up speed, a cyclone of power and magic with you caught in the edges. You struggle to stay on your feet, your body resisting the pull into the vortex. What little you can see is naught but a haze of magic, purple, blue, and inky black, rushing around you and mixing with the wind. Threads of blue and silver lightning dance around you, passing close enough to make your hair stand on end, shocking you when you take an unsteady step backward. The vortex of wind, lightning, and magic threatens to suck the very air from your lungs until, with crack like thunder, everything around you stops.

The air grows still. It is as though you suspended in time. Held fast by magic. Your ears are ringing with the sudden silence.

You cautiously lower your hand. You have to blink a few times for your eyes to adjust, but once they do, the sight of Gale causes a flurry of emotions within you.

He stands before you as something…more. A god in all but name. He’s taller, you swear he must be, or else his very presence makes him seem bigger. His skin has turned a shade of hard silver, his hair ashen gray. The mark of the orb stands out in stark black on his chest and when he turns his head to examine his hands, his body, you see splintered blue lightning crackling at his temples and down the sides of his face. His brown eyes now glow blue-white with magic, any trace of his former warmth consumed by the light of the power within him. He’s striking, awe-inspiring…

And you can’t help but fear him, just a little. 

On instinct you have the compulsion to kneel, but you don’t. You force yourself to stay on your feet and look at him, really look at him, and try to find the man you love behind this new godly veneer. He has to be in there somewhere. He has to be.

“Amazing,” he murmurs, and his voice is layered two or three times over with a strange echo, one that gives you unpleasant shivers. Even his voice carries tiny waves of power. You already miss the warm tones of his mortal voice with its Waterdhavian accent.

He flexes his hands, raising them before his face, his expression one of wonder and awe. With but a gesture, he summons threads of the Weave together in glyphs and effects you can barely make sense of, though you feel the thrum of magic deep in your chest and know, instinctively, that he is capable of snapping your mind with a thought or destroying you with a word. He smiles, and the effect is strange. He looks like himself but he doesn’t. Something about it seems wrong to you. Uncanny. Familiar and unfamiliar.

The pit of dread in your stomach grows.

But then he catches sight of you, waiting, watching breathlessly, nervously, hoping that he’ll remember his promise to you. His smile fades and for the briefest moment you catch a glimpse of the man you love. Even his blue-white eyes, shining eerily from his familiar face, can’t hide the love he has for you.

He lowers his hands to his sides. “It is done. The crown is fully restored once more.”

You nod. You haven’t the faintest clue what to say next. You’re still trying to make sense of the man-god before you.

He smiles again, and something about it is both patronizing, as though he pities you for not understanding, and sincere, an echo of his mortal kindness and patience. He presses a hand to his chest. “Well, I’d best be off then.”

“Wait—” You reach out as if to stop him and he pauses. Your hand hovers uncertainly in the air before you lower it to your side. "One last kiss, before you go. Please."

His smile softens. "I can deny you nothing, my love," he murmurs. He crosses the distance between you with a strange grace he didn't have before. Before he was elegant, but at times a little awkward. None of the awkwardness remains in him now.

You look up as he stops in front of you, his fingers curling beneath your chin the way he does when he wants to lift your face or guide your lips to his. You stare into his glowing eyes a moment before letting your eyes flutter closed. His lips touch yours...and it's different.

There's a magnetism there now that wasn't there before. You seem drawn in as if by gravity. He tastes of metal and magic, his skin cold but not unyielding. Your lips tingle with each kiss and the moment you seek to deepen the kiss—you gasp as a blue electric shock drives your mouths apart, your teeth practically rattling, your lips suddenly hot, almost burned. You press a hand to your mouth, looking up at him in shock, but he's just as surprised as you are. He seems unharmed, despite the tiny sparks of white-blue lightning still skittering over his lips.

"Ah...what an interesting side effect," he says, touching his hand to his mouth. The lightning calms. "Are you all right?"

You nod, rubbing your lips lightly as the numbness from the shock begins to subside and the tingling begins to fade. It wasn't pleasant, but it wasn't unpleasant either. Still, you're wary of trying it again.

He watches you, looking torn, before a new resolve settles his features. "Then I suppose that is my signal to go. The sooner I depart, the sooner I can return." He takes your hand carefully, moving it away from your face, and presses a cautious kiss to the back of your hand. His lips impart another, smaller shock to your skin, but this time you're ready for it. Your fingertips go a little numb, but you manage not to wince.

"Wait for me, my love," he says, finally letting go of your hand. "I won’t be long."

You step back, giving him room to do whatever he needs to do, and watch as he begins to glow, brighter than your eyes can stand. You keep your gaze on his until the very last second, when the light grows too bright to stare at. You blink—and then he’s gone, disappearing in a shower of starlight that fades too quickly.

You are left alone in the cool night, with naught but a dying fire for company. 

———

You don’t sleep. You barely bring yourself to tend to the dying embers of your campfire and stoke it back into warm flames. After that, all you can do is sit.

And wait.

And wonder.

And pray.

“Come back to me, my love,” you whisper into the cool night air.  "Please."

You half-wonder if he can hear you. If, on some level, you’re praying to him, the newest of the gods. You don’t know if that thought comforts you or worsens your dread. How does he think of you now, now that his mind is that of a god, capable of seeing beyond the constraints of a mortal’s limited view? If he hears your prayers, does he think less of you, or love you more? Will he remember his promise, or will the power he now holds tempt him to break it? You want to have faith in him—you do have faith in him—but doubt creeps in despite your best efforts.

Come back to me.

You recall what it was like to wait for him at Mystra’s shrine at the Stormshore Tabernacle. How he had explained that time runs differently in the Outer Planes. How he would only be gone for a moment. Each second that had ticked by during that time felt like a year.

Now, sitting on the hillside, every second that passes feels like an eternity.

The fire crackles. The lights of the city begin to dim. One by one the stars fade out, hiding from view as the black of night begins to lighten into the blue hues of pre-dawn. And still, he isn’t back.

Wait for me, he said. And you will. You’ll wait as long as you have to.

But what if…?

No. You can’t bring yourself to put your fears into words anymore. Doing so will only make them seem more real. More feasible. There could be a thousand explanations for why he isn’t back quickly. You just have to have faith in him.

You get up and begin to pace. You start breaking little sticks and twigs into tiny pieces to feed to the fire, piece by tiny piece, just for something to do with your hands. You pluck blades of grass one by one or count the stars you can see. And you wait.

And wait.

And wait.

Your thoughts are your own worst enemy and you wish you had called an ally to come and sit with you. Even Scratch with his favorite ball would have been enough to quiet your heart and mind. But instead, you sit alone, the crackle of a fire the only sound to break the silence.

Your eyelids are heavy now and your body longs to drag you down into slumber, but you resist. You want to be there when he comes back. If he comes back. When he comes back.

You get up to pace again, rubbing warmth into your stiff fingers, amusing yourself with memories of him. His smile. His sly jests and silly puns. His hands on your body and his body against yours, yours against his. The smell of him, as much as you can remember. The way he looked during battles, magic crackling and swirling around him. The way he looked in your bed, fast asleep. Gale Dekarios in all his mortal glory, the man you fell in love with. The man you wish was at your side once more. 

Gods, but you miss him. You press your hands to your chest, feeling your heart beat beneath your palms. What is taking so long?

The first hints of pink and orange appear on the horizon as you turn to pace away from the fire again, your steps wearing a noticeable path through the grass. At this rate, you fear the sun will arrive before your love does. 

You contemplate how you’re supposed to face the whole of a new day alone when a flash of light illuminates the darkness behind you. You whirl, heart racing, to see a shower of starlight once more—and out of it steps Gale.

Mortal. Human. Alive.

“Gale!”

You fly into his arms, which he is already holding out wide for you, nearly toppling you both into the ground with the force of your embrace. You both stagger, but you don’t let go, and his arms around you are as fierce in their hold on you as yours are around him. He practically lifts you off your feet. You can’t put into words how much it means to you that he’s solid your arms—warm, breathing, alive in your arms.

“You’re back,” you gasp, the tears in your eyes and clogging your throat making it difficult to speak. You don’t want to sob and make it seem like you doubted him, but the emotions welling up inside you are hard to suppress. “You came back.”

“Of course, my love,” he says soothingly, not yet relinquishing his hold of you. “You are everything to me. I could do nothing else.”

You untangle yourself from him to wipe the tears from your face and look at him, looking for any changes wrought by his visit to the Outer Planes or from his brief time at godhood. He looks like himself again, his lightly tanned skin flush with warmth and love, his dark brown eyes as rich and deep as ever. You comb your fingers through his soft hair, once more brown and shot through with hints of gray, rather than all over ashen as it was a while ago. Your fingers linger on his cheek, noticing for the first time that the dark vein-like threads that trailed from his eye to his chest are no longer visible. 

The mark of the orb is gone.

In its place are a series of faint scars in the same threads and shapes as the old mark, appearing just below his jaw and flowing down to form a circle over his chest. The tattoo-like color has faded away entirely and there is no dark bruise at the center of the circular marking. Any trace of Netherese magic is gone, leaving behind little more than scars faint enough to be missed by any who are not actively searching for them.

You trace the circular scar lightly with the tips of your fingers. “Does this mean…?”

“It does,” he says, pressing his hand over yours so that both of your hands are pressed flat to his chest. You feel his heart beating, his pulse perhaps a little elevated, but every beat strong and vibrant. “Mystra has cured me of the orb. Completely.”

You want to hate her, and perhaps you still do, and always will on some level. But in that moment you’re grateful and relieved too. You wrap your arms around him and squeeze him tight, overwhelmed with happiness and relief and joy. Your love is cured at last. The threat of losing him to Netherese magic is at last put to rest. He is whole again. Restored. 

And he is yours. Not hers.

As dawn colors the sky overhead and spills pink-golden light over the both of you, you kiss him, reveling in the taste of him, in the warmth and weight of him, in his hands on you. Not a single spark of lightning threatens to drive you apart, so you deepen your kisses as much as you please. You simultaneously want to push him down into the grass and make love to him there and kiss him for an eternity you know you both don’t have and simply gaze at him in awe and wonder that even while he had godhood in grasp and a crown on his head, he gave it all up for you.

He gave up godhood for you.

You never realized you could love him more than you already did. But you do. Your every heartbeat sings love for him.

You lose track of time kissing him. It could be moments or hours. You don’t know nor do you care. But at last, when you finally pull away from him, it takes you a second to remember where you are, standing out on the hillside across the river from the city. The sun is rising over the horizon now, painting the world in gold and shifting the hue of the sky to a beautiful, cloudless blue. A new day is beginning. 

A whole future awaits. And it is yours to shape with your love at your side.

“What’s next, my love?” you ask. “Now that we have everything we both want.”

“Next? For us?” He chuckles and takes your hand, bringing it up to press a tiny kiss on your empty ring finger. “If you still want me, I believe we have a wedding to plan.”

“I will always want you, Gale Dekarios. Now and forever.”

“Is that a yes to planning the wedding? Because I’ll have you know that Waterdhavian weddings are quite the large-scale affair.”

You laugh, his humor clearing the air like the sunlight warming away the fog of a morning and the dew on the grass. “Yes. Come on, let’s find some food to eat and get started. I can’t wait to begin a new life together with you.”

“My love, that new life starts now,” he says, bringing you in for another kiss. You smile against his lips and allow yourself to be corrected. He is right, of course.

Your new life with him begins now.

#bg3 #gale dekarios #gale #baldur's gate 3 #my fic #gale x reader #gale x you #I’m not super happy with this one but if I keep staring at it I’ll hate it #bg3 fic #bg3 fanfic #bg3 fanfiction

[autistichalsin]

All dialogue options for Halsin's request for a story for the children in the epilogue

There are generic options, unique options for Durges, each Origin, and even for Origin paths (I.E. Justiciar Shadowheart vs Selune path Shadowheart) so I thought I'd collect them all here! There are some nice characterization moments here, and I love Halsin's reactions to some of these. (Also, I had no idea Gale could still ascend to godhood as a mindflayer? Or at least there's dialogue for it here...) I hope you guys enjoys these!

All characters/Tav:

Regale Halsin with tales of your past six months.

Halsin: You have kept yourself busy - I expected no less, in truth. I shall be able to keep the children enthralled for a few more nights yet, thanks to you. And should you wish to retell of your exploits in person? Well, I shall not object to a night off.

All characters/Tav:

The truth may be a little flat. Spice it up a little. (This triggers a skill roll for deception)

If the roll succeeds:

Halsin: You are truly incapable of disappointing. The children shall be rapt - and have no fear; all due credit shall be given to the tale's originator.

If the roll fails:

Halsin: Hmm, do I detect a certain... exaggeration? You could give Master Geddarm a run for his gold - though I suppose he has little need for it now, Oak Father bless him. In any case, my audience will favour a good tale over veracity any day - I thank you for your offering.

Any character who accompanied Karlach to Avernus:

Halsin: I am glad you and Karlach have an enduring friendship - it shall serve as a strong lesson for the children, as well as a stirring tale.

Any player who became a mindflayer:

My exploits have been limited by my new form. I live as a pariah, feared by most.

Halsin: Yet not by me. I shall tell the children of your heroism and sacrifice. They shall know what they owe to you, trust me.

Mindflayer characters who have plans with the Emperor:

I have been dwelling far from the public eye. Yet the Emperor and I have grand plans in motion - that I cannot speak of.

Halsin: Too murky for a children's tale, I fear. Perhaps I should focus on the hero you were, and the sacrifice you made. But thank you for sharing, nonetheless.

Mind flayer characters who are allied with the Emperor:

My new form demands discretion. I have been amassing power in the shadows with my ally, the emperor.

Halsin: I see. Perhaps the children can learn something from your ambition in the face of adversity. Thank you.

Mindflayer characters who killed the Emperor:

My exploits have been limited by my new form. I live as a pariah, feared by most.

Halsin: And with an appetite for the grey ambrosia that dwells within every skull, I presume? Perhaps I shall remind the children of your heroism and self-sacrifice... and skip over the brain-eating until they are older.

Dragonborn Dark Urge:

How about a ghost story? A spectral dragon who will haunt the little ones' dreams, if they don't behave.,

Halsin: Most enthralling - though perhaps it may lead to some sleepless nights for the younger ones. I can make something palatable with a little showmanship and creative licence - thank you.

Any Dark Urge:

Tell Halsin a detective story, where in the end, the intrepid Fist discovers they had been committing the murders all along.

Halsin: A touch bleak perhaps, but considering the amount of orphans in my audience, I am sure they shall manage. I can make something palatable with a little showmanship and creative licence - thank you.

God Gale:

Recall the parable of the Yearning Orphan, your youngest follower and already a great prophet spreading your doctrine...

Halsin: You are truly incapable of disappointing. The children shall be rapt - and have no fear; all due credit shall be given to the tale's originator.

Also God Gale:

Tell him of the tribulations of godhood. The politics, the bureaucracy, the endless prayers to answer...

Halsin: Well luckily for you, mortals have a habit of embellishing their run-ins with gods... I am sure I can muster something to captivate the children from what I can glean of you.

God Gale:

Well, I have developed a taste for togas, for one thing.

Halsin: I am glad you have kept yourself occupied. No doubt I will be able to spin a few yarns from the children from this. Thank you.

Mindflayer God Gale:

Well, I've been doing my best to not frighten my followers. I'd hate to be one of those gods.

Halsin: I am glad you have kept yourself occupied. No doubt I will be able to spin a few yarns from the children from this. Thank you.

Non-god Gale who went back to Waterdeep:

I've been researching the tale of the first Blackstaff, Khelben Arunsun. My abridged notes would make for a fascinating bedtime story.

Halsin: I see... well I trust your sources, of course. Perhaps the historical record can survive an embellishment or two, for the sake of the children. In any case, you have my gratitude.

Non-god Gale who didn't return to Waterdeep:

What haven't I done? Delved into dungeons, read secret tomes, taken out a rogue shadow mage or two. Enough magic and mystery for a treasury of tales.

Halsin: Why, Master Dekarios, I had no idea you would continue to stoke the fires of adventure. I commend you - as shall the children, once they hear of your exploits. Thank you.

Dark Justiciar Shadowheart:

Tell Halsin of how you consolidated your power over Lady Shar's church, purging the disloyal with bloody vigor.

Halsin: My. Perhaps a tale for the older children, once I trim off a few of the... less savoury details. But thank you, all the same.

Also Dark Justiciar Shadowheart:

I have been continuing to serve Lady Shar however I can.

Halsin: You are stalwart, even in service of darkness. There will be a lesson there for me to impart to the children... with a few details glossed over, perhaps. Thank you.

Selune path Shadowheart who killed her parents:

Tell Halsin of how you've roamed far and wide, now that you are free of Shar.

Halsin: The shadows were concealing a true adventurer's heart then. Thank you - the children shall be rapt.

Shadowheart whose parents are alive, whether Selune path or Dark Justiciar:

Regale Halsin with tales of your tranquil life with your family and coterie of animals.

Halsin: Yes, I thought I caught the scent of a wolf upon the wind... the children shall love this, but be warned - they may insist upon a visit.

Selune path Shadowheart:

I have been forging my own path, away from Shar's influence.

Halsin: I shall be honoured to speak of you to the children. To embrace change as you have shall make for a stirring example. Thank you.

Any path Shadowheart:

I've been at something of a loose end - roaming and adventuring as I see fit.

Halsin: Countless tales have begun with a roaming adventurer - I am sure I shall keep the children enthralled for years to come with your exploits. Thank you.

Orpheus path Lae'zel:

I have ridden a red dragon to battle as a Warrior of the Comet. The lich queen Vlaakith will fall by my hand.

Halsin: Oak Father preserve you - I hope you have a tight hold on the beast. But this shall make for a most stirring tale for the children. I may even have to tone down the details, for fear they get too excited...

Lae'zel who stayed in Faerun:

I have travelled the harshest lands of the Sword Coast, piercing the hearts of the lich queen's countless assassins.

Halsin: Ha! I think some of the more bloodthirsty children will relish this, thank you.

Wyll who became a Grand Duke and made an eternal pact with Mizora:

I embraced my hellish side and dedicated my life to rebuilding the grand city of Baldur's Gate.

Halsin: The makings of the multi-night epic. The children shall rush to their bunks in order to hear the next chapter, thank you.

Wyll who became a Grand Duke but didn't continue his pact with Mizora:

I turned from my hellish past and dedicated my life to rebuilding the grand city of Baldur's Gate.

Halsin: A noble calling. Your tale shall inspire a whole generation. Thank you.

Wyll who stayed the Blade of Frontiers and made an eternal pact with Mizora:

The Sword Coast is safe as ever thanks to the Blade and his infernal powers.

Halsin: The classic tale of the Blade, but with a twist? This shall go down very well with the children, I sense. Thank you.

Wyll who stayed the Blade of Frontiers and ended his pact with Mizora:

The Blade of Frontiers is back on the hunt. The Sword Coast is safe as ever.

Halsin: Many of the children have already heard of you, as it were - do you know some of them scarcely even believe this old bear could be acquainted with such a hero? But the authentic sense that your recollections bring to the tale shall win them over, no doubt. Thank you.

Wyll who became the Blade of Avernus and made an eternal pact with Mizora:

No hellbeast is safe from the Blade of Avernus and his infernal powers.

Halsin: Thank you, the children shall be agog. I do believe some of them use the number of beastly fangs and claws present in a tale as the yardstick for its quality - which puts yours right at the top of the heap.

Wyll who became the Blade of Avernus and but ended his pact with Mizora:

The Blade of Avernus is on the hunt. The Hells shudder at the very mention of his name.

Halsin: A classic tale. I expect it shall inspire more than a few of the children to start practising their ripostes with wooden sticks.

Wyll who became the Blade of Avernus, made an eternal pact with Mizora, and went to Avernus with Karlach:

The Blade of Avernus and his companion are on the hunt. No hellbeast is safe from his infernal powers.

Halsin: A formidable duo. I am glad that you and Karlach have each other - it shall serve as a strong lesson for the children, as well as a stirring tale.

Wyll who became the Blade of Avernus, did not make an eternal pact with Mizora, and went to Avernus with Karlach:

The Blade of Avernus and his companion are on the hunt. The Hells shudder at the very mention of his name.

Halsin: I am glad you and Karlach have an enduring friendship - it shall serve as a strong lesson for the children, as well as a stirring tale.

Astarion who didn't ascend, but defeated Cazador:

I've been revelling in my freedom, rediscovering the joys of the night.

Halsin: Sanguine joys, no doubt? Perhaps I shall smoothen out some of those details - the children do not need to know the full truth of your diet. But they shall be rapt all the same, thank you.

Astarion who didn't defeat Cazador:

Halsin, I've been hiding in sewers and eating rats. It's not a glorious tale.

Halsin: Ah, but the glory can be found in the telling. The children love tales of underdogs, facing odds most unlikely. They shall appreciate your story, trust me.

Astarion who didn't defeat Cazador and became a mindflayer:

Halsin, I've been hiding in sewers and eating rats' brains. It's not a glorious tale.

Halsin: Ah, but the glory can be found in the telling. The children love tales of underdogs, facing odds most unlikely. They shall appreciate your story, trust me.

Ascended Astarion:

My tales are a little heavy on murder and sex. But if the children want to hear them...

Halsin: Hmm. Perhaps I can substitute the bloodlust and... eh, general lust for cuddles and animals in the retelling. The children may be confused, but no matter - they will soon be asleep. Even with a few little white lies, rest assured that they shall be engrossed. Thank you.

Ascended Astarion who became a mindflayer:

My tales are a little heavy on murder, sex, and tentacles. But if the children want to hear them...

Halsin: Hmm. Perhaps I can substitute the bloodlust and... eh, general lust for cuddles and animals in the retelling. The children may be confused, but no matter - they will soon be asleep. Even with a few little white lies, rest assured that they shall be engrossed. Thank you.

Karlach who went to Avernus alone:

Tell him of how you lost your horn.

Halsin: Truly? I never would have guessed that is what happened. And to think I believed I had the measure of you... but I am glad to be wrong - the children shall be captivated.

#halsin #halsin silverbough #astarion #astarion ancunin #gale dekarios #wyll ravengard #karlach #karlach cliffgate #shadowheart #lae'zel #dark urge #the dark urge #bg3 #baldur's gate 3

[redacted-rainbows]

Hey y'all! So I saw this really ~entertaining~ post by @janitorhutcherson the other day and got inspired to write a little drabble based on it. Sorry if this isn't great, this is quite literally my first time ever writing any form of fanfiction much less smut so feel free to give constructive criticism. Hope you guys enjoy this!

WARNING- 18+, consume this content at your own discretion (smut under the cut)

The original post~ peeta mellark the type of man to stick his hand between your thighs under the table at dinner while having the nerve to force you to make conversation

--------------------------------------------------

The plans had been set for days, but you still let out a deep sigh pulling on your favorite black dress and throwing your hair into a loose updo before flopping onto your bed. You and your long term boyfriend Peeta Mellark were scheduled to meet with Haymitch and Katniss for dinner and you were already going to be late. Peeta walks into your shared bedroom, his blonde hair slicked back and muscular frame emphasized by his white button up and half-done bowtie. "Babe, we've gotta be out the door in five minutes or else Katniss might literally shoot me" the older boy says while sitting down onto the bed next to you. "I know, I know, but you're the one whose made us this late already!" you retort, sitting up to run your hands through his gorgeous hair. You laugh as he makes an annoyed face and moves to fix his appearance, so you remind him "Peeta, you look good no matter how your hair is styled, now lemme get that bowtie so we can leave." He gives you a slight eye roll, but can't help but smile when you tug on the pathetic attempt of a knot your boyfriend tied on his neck. "You know if you wanted to choke me, all you had to do was ask" he teases, making your face go slightly red as you look away. "Oh shut up bread boy, in your dreams" was your only response as you gently fix his bowtie and straighten it on his neck. "Do I look perfectly handsome yet?" he jokes, cocky grin on his face, and you sigh. "Sure you do loverboy, just not as gorgeous as I do" you say with a wink.

You arrive at the resturaunt at 7:18, much to the dismay of Peeta who had promised a prompt 7:15 reservation for the quartet. You grab his hand and drag him into the building, where he sheepishly looks around for his companions. "Peeta! Y/N! We're over here!" you hear a familiar rough alto lilt. "Hey Katniss!" Peeta greets shyly as you two walk over to the corner of the restaurant. You feel your boyfriend lean his head into yours and hear him start to whisper "this place has a no bow and arrow policy, right?" You can't help but giggle aloud at his comment. Even though Katniss was a legend with her weapon of choice, you knew she would never hurt anyone unless necessary, even if they are wandering into dinner late. "Where's Haymitch off to this time?" you wonder aloud, glancing around the resturaunt for sight of the older man. Katniss rises from where she is seated to give you a warm embrace while sighing. "He ran off to the bathroom a few minutes ago, but knowing him he could be halfway to the Capitol at this point". Turning to Peeta, she opts for a gentle flick on the nose and an eye roll, "for almost certainly being the reason you're both late". You all get situated into the booth, you and Peeta next to each other and Katniss across, with room for Haymitch whenever he appears again.

You're deep into your second round of drinks, gossiping about Gale's newest act of narcissism when Haymitch stumbles up to the table with a lopsided grin on his face. You're not quite sure, but you think you hear him mutter something about "bread boy and his flower girl" under his breath, and you blush at the nickname. The first time Peeta had introduced you to his loved ones, Haymitch and Katniss included, you had prepared a fresh bouquet from the forest behind your cottage for each of them. While most found the gesture sweet, Haymitch laughed playfully at you and told Peeta he had found a keeper. You snap our of your memories when you hear Peeta ask "Y/N, do you know what you wanna order?". "Oh sorry, I'll just get some fried noodles if that works?" you reply, to which he nods.

"So anyways Y/N, how is your little kitten doing? Last I heard he was tearing up your bedsheets at night with those sharp claws" Katniss remarked. You're about to answer when Haymitch pipes in, "I think the bedsheets were torn by someone else we know", a smug smirk resting on his face. You can feel your face flush as Peeta nearly chokes on his drink next to you, sputtering in shock at his mentor's crass insinuation. After a moment of shocked silence, you reply "oh yeah he's a little troublemaker little Charlie, silly little guy". 'Real smooth, Y/N' you think as you internally groan. "Well then..." Katniss thankfully intervenes, "Buttercup has been a complete menace the last few days and we can't figure out why". You zone out a bit as she explains the older kitty's disasterous ways until you're snapped back to reality by the familiar feel of Peeta's hand on your thigh. This wasn't an uncommon occurances for the two of you; you know how much your boyfriend loves to tease you while you were out together, but doing so in the company of others was completely new. You cast him a questioning glance out of the corner of your eye, still stuck in the world inside your own head. "I just don't see why you let those furry rascals behave like that. They seem more trouble than they're worth" Haymitch grunted. 'Oh right, cats' you remember and quickly start "our little Charlie is just too cute to discipline too much, he should grow out of his kitten curiosity soon enough". From beside you, Peeta responds "I tried to yell at him for getting fur in my dough, but Y/N scolded me instead". All you could think about was his hand dancing up your inner thigh until he's so close to where you need him. 'Is he absolutely insane?!' you ponder as you kick his leg under the table. "Hmm, seems like there might be a little trouble in paradise over there" Haymitch declared, to Katniss' disapproval. "No, I'm sure they're too infatuated with each other to even consider arguing over parenting a cat" she chortles as you force yourself to laugh along.

The only thing on your mind is Peeta. Peeta's strong arms rubbing against your side as you talk. Peeta's smooth voice laughing alongside your own. Peeta's thick fingers sliding the hem of your dress up further and further to gain access to the one place he truly desires. Thankfully, Katniss and Haymitch seem to be unaware of the tension unfolding across the booth from them as they bicker over who knows what. You hear Peeta chime in "Well I guess that makes sense, but wouldn't the Capitol stop that from happening in the first place?". Asshole, how could he be so calm and collected while his fingers are rubbing circles into your upper thigh. "FUCK!". You can't help but yelp in surprise and unexpected pleasure as Peeta's fingers slide under your underwear and slip between your wet folds. Conversation at the table halts as your three companions look at you with concern, but you can see a taunting glimmer in your boyfriend's eyes as he remarks "babe, are you feeling alright?". Katniss quickly chimes in, "I can call Prim if you're ill, her healing abilities are getting better every day.". 'Goddammit Peeta' you think as you try to formulate a coherent response. "Oh no no no no I'm alright, I just got a little cramp in my leg is all, everything is alright now" you reassure the group, making extra care to glare at the blonde boy next to you.

He just hums in response, sliding his fingers up so they rest on your swollen clit. 'Oh what a jackass'. "Anyways, how is Effie doing these days? Haven't seen her in weeks." Peeta asks as he starts making slow circles over your clit. Your breathing quickens. Across from you, Haymitch starts explaining "her mother got ill, she's been staying with her parents while helping her mom recover". You're trying to listen, but your eyes slide shut as Peeta's gentle caresses turn more rough, gaining speed and pressure against your throbbing clit. You let out a sigh as you feel a finger prod at your sensitive entrance, slowly sliding in and exploring it's newfound territory. 'You're alright, Y/N. Breathe in, breathe through, breathe deep, breathe out. Don't give him the reaction he's looking for and he should stop.'. Another finger enters, curling into your sweet spot. Katniss and Peeta have moved onto grilling Haymitch about just *how* he knows so much about Effie's life as the older man sputters trying to find an excuse. As Peeta's fingers keep moving inside you, you're grateful for the excuse to recluse yourself from the conversation. A few weeks before Effie departed for the Capitol, she had drunkenly confessed to you the extent of she and Haymitch's relationship. She proceeded to swear you to secrecy, a vow you refused to break.

All was going well in the conversation, or as well as it could be with your boyfriend steadily assaulting your core with his rough hand, until Peeta glances at you and asks "well Y/N, since Effie told you you can't say anything from that night how about instead you tell us about when Effie accidentally got high on her birthday flowers you gave her?". "I'm sorry, the time she WHAT?" Katniss gawked at the blonde's outrageous statement before turning to you. "Now this is a story we have to hear" Haymitch pitched in, a confused smile lurking on his lips. "Well babe? You've gotta share now" Peeta smirks, moving his fingers inside you at an increased rate. "W- w- well it was Effie's birthday like Peeta said" you began, all of your focus going into keeping your voice steady as your boyfriend continued his movements, "a- and I couldn't afford a r- real gift for her so I gathered a nice bouquet from the f- forest.". You couldn't find the words you needed, your brain instead resorting to a steady chant of 'Peeta, Peeta, Peeta, Peeta'. You take a deep breath in, more of a gasp, before trying to continue "basically Effie thought they would be edible so she put them on her slice of cake Peeta made her and I found her later in town trying to play catch with a stray cat". You heave a sigh of relief as Katniss and Haymitch start laughing, too enamored by your tale to notice your speedy finish and reddening face. Just as you think you're in the clear, Peeta slides a third finger into your entrance while challenging "yeah, and what happened after that babe?". At this point you can barely breathe, needing an escape from this booth and fast, so you say "sorry I need to go to the restroom" and try to close your thighs to stand up. Peeta, however, has other plans, telling you "you can go in just another minute, you've gotta finish your story for me first" with a wink. You feel his fingers moving in and out of you, curving perfectly into the spot that nearly makes you see stars, as you try to stammer "I got Peeta to h- help a- and the stray cat was C- Charlie who we rescued". "You feel the muscles in your stomach start to contract and you know if Peeta doesn't stop his ministrations right now you're going to cum at the table. Your hand flies down to grab his wrist and he instantly halts his movement, retracting his hand and subtly helping you resituate your garments before you stand and rush to the bathroom. The last thing you hear as you're leaving the booth is the blonde whisper "good girl" into your ear, making you weak in the knees.

'Get yourself together Y/N' you thought as you splashed cool water on your face. You had been so close to your orgasm you could almost taste it, and now you had to calm your mind and body before you return to the group and finish dinner. You took a few more deep breaths and thoroughly readjusted your clothing to hide any lingering evidence of your encounter before stepping back out into the resturaunt and rejoining the table.

In the time it took you to compose yourself and return, food had been served and your three companions had already began to dig into their meals. "Hey, you're back, are you sure you're feeling alright?" Katniss questions, genuine concern shining through her usually flat tone. "Yeah I'm alright, that leg cramp was acting up again so I just needed to stretch it out a little bit" you lie as you sit down to try your noodles. The rest of the meal goes smoothly, and attention is diverted from you when Haymitch finally decides to reveal some details about him and Effie. As the four of you laugh away the evening, you feel like you're at home, surrounded by the people you love most in life. "Well, it was a pleasure getting to see you guys tonight" Peeta sighs standing up and stretching. Your group ended up staying at the resturaunt until all of you are yawning trying to stay awake amidst your chaotic conversing. As all of you stand up and start grabbing your jackets, Haymitch asks "is anybody interested in catching dessert before we all depart? I'm personally stuffed but I guess I'll cover you guys for some cake, my treat". Katniss smiles, but replies "I'm good Haymitch, use that money to buy Effie something nice", then laughs. You catch Peeta's eye with an inquisitive glance, but notice his eyes darken as he turns to you with a smirk. He responds, "Thanks Haymitch, but I think Y/N has dessert covered for me tonight."

#peeta mellark #peeta mellark smut #josh hutcherson #josh hutcherson smut #hunger games #the hunger games #mike schmidt #mike schmidt smut

[vioartemis]

Madly in love

(Amber Freeman x fem! Carpenter! reader)

Summary: After being attacked two times by Ghostface, you find out your girlfriend is one of them. The moment you think everything is over, she talks to you, and the story take a whole new turn... a/n: In this it's not Amber who attacks in the opening scene, it's Richie (I know according to the timeline and all it's impossible but I didn't how to do otherwise TT) Request is here :)) hope that's what you wanted Warnings: blood, injuries, death (English isn't my first language, I'm sorry if there are mistakes or if something doesn't make sense TvT)

“Y/n can you try and convince your girlfriend to come over? I don’t like to be alone a night..”

“Well you’re not..? I’m here too”

“You know what I mean”

“No I don’t”

You took two plates out of the drawer and set them on the kitchen’s counter.

“Come on you don’t like it either. We get bored way too easily, Amber would find something fun to do” Tara said, filling two glasses of water

“You’re not wrong… I’m gonna try something”

You took your phone out of your pocket, turned around, took a picture of your upper torso, and sent it to your girlfriend.

Her answer was quick, as you expected.

“She's getting ready” you informed the brunette

“How did you- I’ve been trying for twenty minutes!”

“Let’s say I gave her two good reasons to come”

You winked at your sister as she opened her mouth wide, understanding what you did.

“Y/n!”

“What? You told me to convince her!”

“Not like that! Really you-”

You both jumped when the phone rang. Unknown number.

Tara answered.

“Hello?”

Everything seemed alright, so you went into the living room to grab some chips, texting Amber about the situation.

When you came back, Tara looked panicked.

“What’s wrong?”

She put the phone on speaker and showed you a video of Amber brushing her hair in her room.

“Oh hello there. You didn’t tell me your sister was with you Tara.”

“How do you know I’m-”

“I know many things about you, Y/n. To answer your question, I suggested we played a little game. Stab movies trivia. You wouldn’t want your girlfriend to die, would you?”

“Wait no! I’ve never seen these movies and neither does Tara! Choose something else, It Follows, The Witch-”

“Warm up question, who is the protagonist of the Stab movies?” interrupted the person on the phone

“U-uh…”

“Sidney Prescott! It’s Sidney Prescott!”

“Good, you see you know the movies. First question-”

“Wait we got it right! It should count!”

Once again, he didn’t listen to you.

“Who wrote the original book that the Stab movies are based on?

“It’s um the chick from tv!” Tara said

“‘The chick from tv’ is not gonna cut it, Tara”

“I-it’s Gale Weathers! It’s Gale Weathers you motherfucker!” you said, trying to call 911 at the same time, hands shaking in fear

“Correct. Amber might live to see the sunrise. Unless you finish typing 911, then she has no chance of survival.”

You froze, finger hovering over the last 1.

“Question two: Who played the dumb bitch at the beginning of Stab 1, who answers the phone and gets carved up by the killer?”

“Fuck you.” you spat

“Is that the answer you’re going with?”

Tara opened a new tab and Google the cast of Stab.

“A non-answer counts as a wrong answer. Time’s running out. Tick-tock tick-tock tick-tock..”

“Heather Graham!” Tara suddenly said

“Correct. You pulled that one out. Now for the final question: who was the killer in Stab 1?”

Your sister answered quickly.

“I know this one, you fuck. It’s Billy Loomis! I got you asshole!”

“Oh, I’m sorry Tara, but that’s just not correct.”

“What…?”

“The correct answer is Billy Loomis and Stu Macher. There are two killers in the original Stab.”

“No no we got it right! You said killer not killers!” you said

“Don’t play on words Y/n. I’m afraid someone’s got to die now.”

You felt your heart drop as a knife showed in the video. You didn’t think twice and grabbed a knife before running to the door.

“Y/n!”

Tara followed you, and just as you opened the door, let out a scream. A Ghostface was standing right in front of you. He tried to stab you, but Tara pushed the door on him, resulting in him just cutting your abdomen.

You help her close the door, punching him in the face so he backed up a little.

“Lock the door!”

“I’m trying!”

The blood on your hands made it difficult to press the buttons on your phone so you handed it to Tara.

Systems armed.

“The police are on their way asshole!” she yelled

All systems disarmed.

You looked at each other in fear. Tara pressed the button again.

Systems armed.

You backed up in the kitchen.

All systems disarmed.

Systems armed.

Then the landline rung again. You were the one who answered this time.

“Hello..?”

“Bonus question Y/n.”

“Please stop…”

You put him on speaker again.

“Do you think I could make it inside your house before you could rearm?”

That’s when you saw a dark silhouette behind your sister.

“Tara behind you!”

She didn’t have the time to move before the Ghostface grabbed her and sunk his blade into her stomach.

He threw her on the counter. You punched him as strongly as you could, but he was quick to grab your hair and slammed your head on the said counter. You felt your nose break on the spot.

You hissed in pain as he pushed Tara to the ground. She kicked him, only for him to break her leg right after. You took the nearest object, a coffee pot, and threw it on his head.

He grabbed your arm and twisted it harshly in the wrong direction, breaking it at the elbow, before sinking his knife in your stomach and pushing you on Tara.

You both screamed in pain and tried to reach the door. Ghostface stabbed you both at least 3 times, and when Tara turned on her back and held a hand in front of her, the blade passed through her hand.

You kicked him in his private parts, hoping it would hurt enough so you could escape before getting killed, but it only took him a second to stand up again.

You were less than thirty centimeters away from the door when he grabbed your feet and pulled back. You could see the police’s lights reflecting on his mask as he raised his knife, ready to kill you both.

<><><><> ♡ <><><><>

When you woke up, in a hospital room, you were surprised to be alive. You turned around a little to quickly, searching for your sister. She was in another bed beside you, already awake, in the phone with someone.

“Yeah okay of course…”

She turned to look at you and smiled a little when she saw you were awake. She took the phone away from her mouth.

“It’s mom. Do you to talk to her..?”

You shook your head. Tara pulled the phone closer to her.

“No Y/n’s not awake yet. …. Yeah I’ll tell her. …. Bye”

She hung up before turning back to you.

“How are we still alive..?” you asked in a weak voice

“I don’t know…” then, after a little pause “I texted Wes and the others, they should arrive soon”

Indeed, they arrived ten minutes later, all worried.

Amber rushed to you, concern written on her face, while the rest of them sat hesitantly around your beds, not wanting to hurt you by hugging you.

Your girlfriend wanted to take your hand, but noticed your broken arm and froze.

Before she could sit beside you, you asked her to help you move your bed next to Tara’s.

“It would be easier for you all to sit around us, and I’d like to be close to my beloved twin”

They helped moving the beds quickly, understanding your need to be close to Tara. Even though you were twins, you didn’t look much alike physically.

Amber sat on your bed next to you, her left hand making its way to your hair. You tilted your head slightly up so she could kiss you, which she did softly, before resting your head against her.

You talked a little, before your older sister came in, to your surprise, followed by a guy. Almost immediately, she knelt next to Tara and you.

"How are you feeling?" she asked

"You came.."

"Of course I came" then, turning to the guy "This is my boyfriend Richie”

You greeted him with a little smile, and so did Tara.

Sam introduced everyone to her boyfriend, before Amber spoke.

“Look guys, they are really tired. Maybe we should give them some space”

They all agreed and started to leave. Tara looked at you, seeking your approval to her silent question. You nodded slightly, understanding what she wanted.

“Not you Sam” she said

“We want you to stay” you continued

“Okay” Sam smiled a little “If it’s okay with you, I could sleep here tonight..”

“I’d really like that”

“Me too”

Everyone was gone now, except from Amber.

"Do have your extra inhaler?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine"

"Okay, be safe Tara…” Amber looked down at you “You too baby…”

She kissed you softly. Sam looked at you with wide eyes. Amber and you had been dating for three years now, but how could she know, as she’s been gone for five whole years?

“Call me if something’s wrong..”

“Will do”

“Okay, bye, I love you baby”

“I love you too”

You smiled at her before she excited the room, followed by Richie.

As soon as the door closed, you started to tear up. Both you and Tara.

<><><><> ♡ <><><><>

After Ghostface attacked you again at the hospital, you all decided it was time to leave Woodsboro.

"Can we at least stop at Amber's house? I have to say goodbye, tell her we're leaving..."

"Y/n, I'm sorry but it's just not safe"

"Why? You don't- you don't think she's the killer, right?"

"... I don't know..."

You looked at her in disbelief.

“She would never do that..!”

"Guys I don't find my inhaler..." Tara suddenly said

"Are you sure? I think I saw it before we left the hospital.."

You helped her search in her bag with your valid arm.

"I have an extra one at Amber's. We have to go pick it up, her house’s on the way”

Richie and Sam argued for a while, before he gave up and drove to your girlfriend's house.

"Welcome to act 3"

You were too shocked to say anything. Your girlfriend just shot Liv in the head and revealed herself as the killer in front of everyone.

They all started to run away, and you were about to do the same, but Amber grabbed your hand and pulled you into an empty room.

"Baby I- I'm sorry for everything... for lying to you, for hurting Tara, everything... He forced me to.. He said he would kill you if I said anything..!"

"'He'? Who? I don't understand I-"

"Richie! He's the other one..!"

She started to mumble nonsenses, completely panicked.

"Amber stop I don't understand anything- Amber! My love!"

You grabbed her face and kissed her to shut her up. When you pulled away, she looked at you, confused.

"You don't hate me...?"

"I should. I really should. My sister almost died twice, I almost died too, our friends.. our friends died. But I don't. I don't hate you. I am still madly, deeply, completely in love with you"

You felt her relax almost instantly at your words. She wrapped her arms around your waist and hugged you tight. You ran a hand through her hair.

"It wasn't me... The Ghostface that attacked you at your house.. It wasn't me.. I wouldn't have laid a hand on you.. I swear.."

"It's okay my love, you're okay..."

You pulled away after a moment. Amber handed you her knife and took her gun in hand. Before you could take the weapon, she was hit from behind by a crutch. She was so surprised she fell on the floor.

You didn't expect Tara to use her crutch this way, so it took you a second to react.

"Tara stop! It's not her fault- Tara!"

You grabbed her waist and dragged her away from Amber.

"What are you doing? Let me go Y/n! She tried to kill us! Twice!"

"I know. But it's not her fault I-"

"Not her fault? Y/n I know you love her but you can't find her excuses! She literally killed Liv in front of us!"

A scream came from the kitchen.

"Can we talk about this later? We need to get rid of Richie before someone else dies. I'll tell you everything after, but I need you to trust me for now"

She stopped struggling against you and nodded slowly. You let go of her and walked to Amber, taking the gun from her.

"Stay here, I don't want you to get hurt more"

"No I'm coming with you."

"No you're not. Call the police and hide. Please.."

She hesitated, but finally agreed and went upstairs with her phone.

You went to the kitchen, where Richie threatened Sam, Gale and Sidney. They must've arrive when you were talking with Amber.

"What took you so long?" he asked his accomplice

"They fought back"

Amber pushed you in a corner of the room, not too hard, scared she might hurt you. He frowned a bit. Shit, you thought, he's understanding.

You reached for the gun you hid behind your back, but Richie was faster than you and shot you in the leg. You dropped the gun and fell on the floor, holding your thigh.

Right after, Sam threw herself at Richie, who tried to shoot her, but only managed to shoot you again, in the stomach this time. Sam bit his arm and ran away from the kitchen, before he followed her.

Sidney grabbed a kitchen knife and stabbed Amber when she tried to get close to you.

The next minutes were a little confused. You were bleeding on the floor, trying to recover, when you heard Amber screaming. That brought you back to reality pretty quickly.

You got up painfully, and saw Gale, gun in hand, ready to shoot Amber.

"No no no! I'm sorry about Dewey!"

"Fuck you."

Just as she was about to pull the trigger, you stepped in front of your girlfriend.

"What the hell? Move!" Gale said, pissed

Sam entered the room with Tara and looked at you with wide eyes.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

"Sam-"

"Y/n you can't protect her this time! We all saw her!"

"I know but-"

"Move. The fuck. Out of my way." Gale interrupted you

"She's right, move Y/n." Sam added

"Can you listen to me for a second?!"

No one said a word, and Gale put the gun down with a sigh.

"Thank you." you stayed in front of Amber, just in case, and continued "I know she's one of the killers. But, he manipulated her. He groomed her into doing this. She's a victim too."

"She told you that?"

"Yes. And I believe her."

"Y/n for fuck's sake! She's lying again."

"I know her better than you. All of you. We've been dating for three years, and not once she lied to me. Not once she hurt me. Not once she raised her voice at me. Not once. So yes, I believe her. I love her. You have to trust me. Please..."

You were not one to trust someone without a good reason, and your sisters knew it. They looked at each other, and Sam sighed.

"I trust you"

<><><><> ♡ <><><><>

Eight months after these events, everything seemed back to normal. Your sisters didn't hate you for protecting Amber, even though she killed people. They even said they would try to forgive her.

When Amber knocked at your door that night, Tara was the one who opened the door.

"Y/n! Amber's here!"

When you arrived downstairs, you saw them hug. That made you happy.

"Where are you guys going?" Tara asked

"Can't tell you, it's a surprise"

Amber winked at you playfully when she saw you arriving.

"You're beautiful tonight baby..."

"You too..."

She was wearing a black dress with flowers on it, and a leather jacket on top of it.

"Have fun" Tara said, smiling at you

"We will"

You took Amber's hand before going out of the house.

"So, where are we going?" you asked

"Like I said, it's a surprise, so I'm not telling you"

"Oh come on!"

You pouted, but she didn't give up.

You walked for twenty minutes, before arriving to a house you had never seen before.

"What's that?"

"You'll see in a minute"

You climbed on the roof, where a telescope and picnic were waiting for you.

"Happy anniversary baby"

You had always dreamed of watching the stars with her. You talked about it many times, but never actually did it. It was the best gift she could've found.

She led you to the blanket on the floor, making you sit on her lap. You were quick to crash your lips on hers in a feverish kiss, locking your arms around her neck, her hands on your waist.

You made out for a while, until your lips were all red and swollen. Her lipstick was all messed up, and so was yours. You both laughed and tried to take the makeup off your faces.

After a minute, you reached in your pocket and took a little box out of it, which you handed to Amber.

She opened it, curious. It was a little black box, with a red rose on top of it, kept behind a plastic glass. There was a little drawer under it, with a necklace in it, with a heart shaped pendant.

"Baby..."

"Look in the little orb in the middle of the heart"

She was a little confused but did as you told. She gasped as she saw it. Inside the orb, "I love you" was written in 100 languages.

"Happy anniversary my love"

#scream #scream 5 #scream 2022 #amber freeman #amber freeman x reader #amber freeman x fem reader

[kingthunder]

So I'm doing an Astarion origin run and I'm not very far into it yet but it's been really interesting to me from a character work perspective. I'm trying to RP him as himself from a non-origin run. Like, take the guy who tries to sleep with you and gives approval for doing all kinds of shitty little things and can't think ahead etc, and put him in a situation where he's the leader now.

There are definitely some situations where I don't think he'd say any of the PC dialogue options, but I've been doing my best.

Anyway, the character dynamics that are coming out are not what I expected going in!

Gale: Astarion thinks he's annoying as shit and leaves him at camp.

Lae'zel: Astarion thinks she's physically intimidating and he might want to get closer to her, except her upbringing and way of thinking is so foreign to him he can't get a bead on what tactic to take. So he mostly avoids her just in order to not piss her off.

Karlach: Astarion likes her but she doesn't like him yet. He brings her along in his party because she can hit stuff and is less likely than Lae'zel to try to murder him. He doesn't think flirting will work with her but he doesn't know what will work—bringing her along is also a way to study her reactions to things and figure out how to make her like him more, because he wants her to.

Shadowheart: They're besties. She was the first one there on the beach and he's kind of imprinted on her a little. They're both evasive and not super fussed about morals and they recognize that in each other. She always has a lot to say when they're running around doing stuff, and Astarion values her opinion (he doesn't even know what his own opinion is half the time so he's glad there's someone else around give him input who isn't a Do-Gooder type). They just had a conversation last night where he pressed her about her secrets and she admitted to Shar worship, and in a fit of camaraderie he organically came out as a vampire to her, and it felt very natural and right.

Wyll: Pisses him off even more than Gale but for a completely different reason. Wyll is the kind of hero he dreamed about when he was a kid, the kind he wished would rescue him from Cazador and never did. He wants to hate him. But Wyll LIKES ASTARION, and Astarion's starved little heart is just eating it up. It makes him want to cosplay as a person who does nice things so that Wyll will keep liking him. It makes him want to *gag* be a better person. But he knows he's not a better person, he's just pretending to be, and that eventually he'll do something that will piss Wyll off too much and he'll leave. Shit, he'd better sleep with Wyll to get him to stick around.

The wyllstarion is happening so naturally I'm shook.

#bg3 #astarion #astarion origin #wyllstarion #astarion meta

[amorficzna]

I just finished the Gale Origin epilogue endings and omggg the god ending is so LMAO - find some of my fav moments below the cut

On this run I romanced Shadowheart so I'm unsure if this is her usual god Gale dialogue or if she just says this, but it's incredible and I fucking love it

Shadowheart: Hmm, you feel a little more substantial than before. Less camping and scrounging off the land, I take it? Gale: Naturally. The god of ambition has an ambitious larder to match. I'm not exactly fighting for scraps. Shadowheart: No offense intended - quite the contrary, in fact. I'm glad you seem well. Truly.

I was hoping to get the option to ascend with her or anything like what I've seen when you romance God Gale otherwise, but it seems like the ascension as an origin makes your romance default to the non-romanced ending.

Tara is also VERY pissed that Gale is a god now and has a lot to say about it. Also so many beard roasts!!

Tara: Ugh. I thought the beard was bad before, and now it's glowing. Gale: Tara! How glad I am to see you! Tara: I wish I could say the same. I thought you had more sense than this, Gale. I thought you had any sense at all. Gale: What happened to 'Mr. Dekarios'? Tara: Using your family name was a show of respect. But you've buried that deep in the litter box, haven't you? Godhood. So vulgar. It isn't too late for you. Other gods have given up divinity. You could still come home. To me. To your mother. To everyone who loves you. But you won't. I know you won't. You've followed Karsus straight down the road to ruin. And I won't be there to watch, Gale. I suppose this is good-bye. To you, your wretched ambition, and that gods awful thing on your chin.

And then naturally you can turn her into a HAIRLESS CAT.

Tara: Oh, very funny. Very godlike behavior. Is this what Elysium's brought you to? It'll take me a tenday to put this right...

For the rest of the companions, there's at least one dialogue option in all of them that includes something about ambition, which seems to be on the forefront of Gale's mind. Here are some of my favs:

Lae: We've heard word of a githyanki outpost hidden deep in Chult. The last of Vlaakith's Sword Coast strongholds. Perhaps you might join us. Help us raze it to the ground, put those godly powers to good use. Gale: If you pray to me during battle, I might aid you. Lae: Pray to you? Chk. I suppose to you, mortals are meant to only worship and obey. What other role might they possibly play in the life of a god? Why don't you go and mingle? That's the word, right? 'Mingle'?

Lae gets so offended by Gale asking her to pray to him she literally just stops talking to him there and then, and I couldn't talk to her after this.

Minsc: How have you filled your days, since we tore the sticky tyrant from the sky? Gale: I claimed the Crown of Karsus, became the god of ambition and established my new domain in Elysium. Minsc: And yet you still make it sound so boring. Truly, God-Gale, Minsc is glad to see you have not changed one bit! But I ask - should Boo send you prayers, answer not. For his ambitions to be realised... the world is not ready for such things.

Fuckiong lmao at Boo being a menace, but also Minsc roasting Gale so hard, get his ass!

And then of course Gale telling everyone to pray to him if they need anything lmao, always be hustling Gale.

#bg3 epilogue spoilers #bg3 spoilers #bg3 #shadowheart #gale dekarios #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #gale of waterdeep #gale bg3 #god gale #god of ambition gale #minsc and boo #lae'zel #tara the tressym #bg3 gale

[profoundlyfaded]

[HC] The Orb and Karsite Weave

(Or: How Mystra is Only Out For Herself)

This primarily comes from my head canon that I use in all cases about the The Orb, and well specifically the book from where The Orb was contained.

I think the book in which the Orb was contained arrived back on the Material Plane at the same time The Crown was heisted out of Mephistopheles’s vault, stored by the Archdevil because he knew it contained this nascent divine power and perhaps he was considering whether a time would come when he would use it.

The Book, and by extension The Orb, were accidental passengers in Durge and Gortash’s return from Cania, perhaps that one could not be without the other - however, they completely overlook this book. But the Book and Crown are a pair and had our two villains realised this, they’d have had something more powerful than even they originally conceived!

So, it lands in the world and it’s like a flashing beacon; ancient, almost primordial. At first, Mystra’s Chosen picks up on it because it’s his work, seeking out and destroying magic that would threaten The Weave. However, his assessment of it is that of the old Weave, Mystral’s Weave, before she unravelled to end Karsus. Restoring this would be a great boon to Mystra, and to him, increasing her opinion of him in her eyes as well.

Gale has no idea it’s Karasite Weave; he tells us this in Act III and there is absolutely no subterfuge on his part when it comes to his titbit of information. And this isn’t a ridiculous notion - all magic was destroyed that day, and the Karasite Weave probably only existed for seconds. It should have been wiped out as something too small to shatter.

The only person who knows what it is, is Mystra. And I have trouble believing she wasn’t aware of what her Chosen had found until it was too late. Mystra could have stopped Gale, saved him before he needed saving but she let him open the book.

I suspect her reasons stem from a ruthless decision that she was willing to let any number of people die to destroy this piece of magic. It’s a threat to her - something that has utterly destroyed her Weave in the past (Gale tells us this in the none-romanced version of this discussion). It’s important to note from the Audience between Mystra and Gale is she says herself that it was his focus on saving himself that caused her to shun him. So, in essence, Mystra has two things to fear - the Crown itself as well as her Chosen now being imbued with this terrifyingly powerful nascent divine power. She knows if Gale combines the two, he’ll probably outstrip her as a God in a very short space of time.

(As an aside here, I think Dekarios the Divine does eventually usurp Ao if you pursue Godhood - that’s my interpretation of Raphael’s ‘warning’.)

Mystra shuts herself off from Gale, hoping, maybe even going as far as praying that he’ll run out of artefacts and explode, destroying the Karsite Weave with him. Again, she doesn’t really care about the casualties, to her any number of dead justifies the destruction of the Orb.

But he doesn’t run out. Instead Gale crosses paths with the Mindflayers, their Netherse imbued tadpoles and in orbit of The Crown.

Mystra sees the opportunity - she knows Gale has no idea what he’s really dealing with. She can be rid of The Crown and Orb in one fell swoop, and Gale is the Chosen who fell in service to his Goddess. I get the feeling the Mystra thought Gale might be grateful and much more willing to do this than he actually is, and feels her path is assured. She doesn’t count on the leader of the pack (or in the case of a Gale Origin run, Gale himself) deciding not to kill the Elder Brain at that moment.

It’s the easy route, isn’t it - what is a little sacrifice to save the world? Why would these heroes opt for the harder path?

So she dispatch’s Elminster to deliver the news and provide Gale with the much needed relief to let the Orb feed off the Weave. Remember this is not a cure, it’s a temporary respite that she could take away again.

(Aside here - the Human!Gale Orb ending is actually, in my opinion a really double edged sword because he’s not cured).

I do actually believe that Mystra couldn’t cure the Orb before now. The quest information for The Wizard of Waterdeep tells us, regardless of Gale’s decision, that if he seizes the Crown, the Orb will answer to him. I think Mystra can’t outright cure the Orb until she gets the crown because other Weaves don’t answer to her - look at the Shadow Curse, her power is deeply limited within Shar’s domain.

Once she has the Crown, it becomes in her best interest to extract the Orb from Gale. She takes it for herself, and we don’t really know what she does with it - perhaps she locks it away in one of her Pleasure Domes; perhaps she ponders using it against a fellow God such as Shar - but she needs both the Crown and Orb together. She cures Gale because it suits her and she’s not outright malicious enough to kill him in the process. I do think she held on to lingering affection for him but she also views him as what he can do for her.

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #the orb #the crown of Karsus #Mystra #no good can come of this #headcanon

[whatacaitastrophe]

Is It Over Now? - Alternative Prologue

Chapter Song Inspiration: "Something in The Orange" - Niall Horan (originally performed by Zach Bryan)

Chapter Warnings: drinking to cope

Spotify Playlist: Here

Fic Chapter List

Chapter Notes: so I finished my tactician mode run as fallon this week, and i played it exactly how it plays out in her story (god!gale leaves her, karlach goes illithid, etc). I have now seen the epilogue party and how it goes if you romanced gale and he ascends to godhood and my brain has been whooshing ever since. So if i were to re-edit/re-write this entire story (i’m not– not right now anyway), just imagine this chapter slotted in between the prologue and chapter one.

Prologue B: You're Never Coming Home

When Fallon received the mysterious invitation requesting she attend a reunion party six months after defeating The Netherbrain, in the spot near The Emerald Grove where it all began, she immediately threw the invitation in the bin. Though she had seen most of her former companions several times since they parted ways on the docks, and though it would be nice to see her former companions again in one large group, Fallon had absolutely no desire to go anywhere that he might show up. Would whomever was throwing this party have even thought to invite him? Would he have even received the invitation? Fallon didn’t know where he was anymore, or if he’d become the god he sought out to become. As far as she knew, nobody had heard from him or spoken to him since he left. 

Not that Fallon’s friends dared to mention his name in her presence, so even if they knew of his whereabouts…they probably wouldn’t tell her. 

She should have expected that Shadowheart would show up at The Elfsong Tavern, where Fallon was still living, and demand Fallon attend. When Shadowheart threw open the curtains in the suite (curtains that had remained closed for the last six months), Fallon whined and buried herself under the blankets in her bed. “That’s fuckin’ bright, fuck.” Fallon complained, the dull headache she had from the previous evening’s attempt to drink until she reached peaceful oblivion intensifying. 

“Serves you right for living in darkness and not leaving this room for six months.” Shadowheart chastised her, and there was little sympathy in her friend’s tone. 

“That’s not true– I’ve left this room,” Fallon argued as she poked her head out from under the blankets, squinting as her eyes adjusted to the daylight now flooding her space. “I’ve gone downstairs.” Her words were slurred, and Fallon squeezed her eyes shut again, willing her brain to focus. There was no question about it: Fallon was definitely still a little drunk from last night.

Shadowheart tutted at her with her tongue and shook her head. The cleric didn’t need to say it for them both to know Fallon’s argument was weak, and going downstairs to the bar was not what Shadowheart meant. “Regardless, you’re leaving this tavern. You’re leaving Baldur’s Gate, and coming with me to the reunion party. If you won’t come willingly, I am prepared to drag you there kicking and screaming.”

“It’s not like I don’t know what you’ve all been doing. I’ve seen most of you in the last six months.” The only exceptions being Lae’zel, who had been off helping her people overthrow Vlaakith, and him. Everyone else had been by to see Fallon at least once in the last six months. Shadowheart ignored Fallon’s protests and disappeared from the bedroom. The sound of running water filled Fallon’s ears moments later and she realized Shadowheart was running her a bath. When the cleric reappeared, she stalked over to Fallon’s bed and ripped the blankets back, robbing Fallon of their warmth and the elf squawked with protest as she unsuccessfully reached for the blankets to cover herself again, if only to hide what she was sleeping in from her friend. 

Recognition immediately passed over Shadowheart’s face as she scanned the purple tunic that covered Fallon’s body, and pity filled the cleric’s eyes. “Where did you find that? I thought he took–” Shadowheart asked softly.  

“It was in my pack when– when he left. My guess is he left in such a hurry that he forgot I had it.” Fallon answered bitterly, unable to meet Shadowheart’s eyes. She hated the look of pity on her friend’s face, and Fallon wanted nothing more than to disappear back under the blankets and for her friend to leave. 

“And you sleep in it…to torture yourself?” Shadowheart questioned.

Fallon shrugged and curled her body into itself, wrapping her arms around her knees and pressing them to her chest. “I guess so.” The truth was that Fallon slept in the purple tunic because it still smelled like him, and when she wrapped her arms around herself before falling into her alcohol induced slumber every night, she could pretend they were his arms instead of her own. It didn’t always keep the nightmares she had about that day on the docks at bay, but at least when she woke up in a panic, the feeling of the velvet fabric and the lingering smell of his cologne was enough to bring her back to reality. Fallon was more certain than ever that he had enchanted his clothes to smell the way they did, because after sleeping in his tunic for six straight months, the familiar smell never faded. 

Shadowheart sighed as she took a seat on the bed at Fallon’s feet. She gently reached for Fallon’s hand and squeezed it. “If you stay home, he wins. He’s already robbed you of enough happiness– don’t let him take this from you, too.”

Fallon looked up at Shadowheart, fear shining in her eyes. “What if he shows up? I don’t think I can–” She said thickly, her voice threatening to crack as panic rose within her. 

“If he shows up, we’ll protect you. If you don’t want to speak to him, you don’t have to, and I will personally spend my entire evening concentrating on the most powerful Hold Person spell I know if he tries to speak to you without your permission.” Shadowheart tells her with more conviction than Fallon has heard from the cleric in a very long time. 

“And if Shadowheart’s spell fails, I will rip his throat out if he comes near you.” Fallon’s head snapped up as a new voice entered the conversation, and she saw Astarion leaning against the door frame of her bedroom. The serious look on his face softened when they made eye contact, and he offered her an easy smile. “Hello, darling. Miss me?”

“That depends. Are you here to help her drag me to this party?” Fallon eyed the vampire warily. 

Astarion pushed himself away from the door frame and entered the room, his red eyes looking around in distaste. “Well right now I’m here to drag you to the bath because if you smell half as bad as this room does, the only person surviving this party is me because I’m technically already dead, gods.”

Fallon scowled at him as he raised the collar of his shirt above his nose in an attempt to filter the alleged smell of her bedroom, and she looked to Shadowheart for confirmation it was as bad as he said. 

“He’s being dramatic, but…it does smell a bit like something died in here. The fact that you don’t smell it yourself is all the more reason to get you out of here for a while,” Shadowheart scrunched her nose as her attention turned from Astarion to Fallon. “Do we…want to know how long it’s been since you bathed?”  

That she couldn’t remember was telling enough. “Probably not.” Fallon shook her head, and Astarion made a disgusted noise in response. 

Shadowheart closed her eyes and sighed. “Please come to the party with us, Fallon. We all miss you.”

Fallon missed her friends, too, and hearing about what everyone had been up to in between taking turns checking in on her would be a nice distraction. “Ugh, fine.” She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood, completely unbothered by the way Astarion’s eyes went wide as he realized Fallon was not wearing any pants, and the purple tunic barely covered her ass. If her friends had wanted her to be decent when they came over, they should have sent word or, at the very least, knocked. 

Aside from poking her head in to leave what Shadowheart deemed an “appropriate” outfit for Fallon to wear to the party (“Honestly, I’m just glad I found something clean.” she’d said), Astarion and Shadowheart did not bother Fallon while she soaked in the tub, or tell her to hurry up. When Fallon emerged from the bath an hour later, the smell of lavender hit her nostrils as she re-entered her bedroom. No matter what Shadowheart and Astarion claimed her room smelled like before, it definitely hadn’t smelled like lavender. Fallon’s jaw went slack as she observed the now pristine room. Fallon found Shadowheart and Astarion waiting for her in the sitting room and she gave the pair a look of awe. “Did you clean my room for me?” 

“I cleaned your room, yes.” Shadowheart confirmed and Astarion glared at her. 

“Excuse me, I–”

“You did not help, you fluffed her pillows so you could say you helped, but I did all the work.” Shadowheart cut him off, and Astarion rolled his eyes. 

“Whatever. We’re going to be late. Shall we go?” He stood from his chair and walked to Fallon, offering his arm. Fallon nodded and inhaled slowly, deeply, trying to calm her mind. 

“Lead the way.” Gods, there better be alcohol at this party. 

There was, mercifully, an abundance of alcohol at the reunion party, and everyone else seemed as interested in partaking as Fallon did. Wyll himself said he intended to drink a half-dozen bottles of wine by the time the night was over, so Fallon did not feel guilty for taking an entire bottle of red for herself. There was no sign of him yet, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t coming, so Fallon kept drinking. She was mindful to stick to the same brand and type of wine, so each time she opened a new bottle, it was less obvious. 

If anyone noticed that the elf had three full bottles of wine to herself in under two hours, nobody tried to stop her. It seemed like everyone was too happy to see her, especially out and about, to bother with telling her to slow down the drinking (if they noticed at all). Based on the look Astarion was constantly giving her, he’d definitely noticed. As she opened her fourth bottle of wine, her vision blurring at the edges and her balance beginning to falter as she swayed slightly, Fallon wondered why her friend was so uncharacteristically silent in his judgment of her. Then she saw a flash of silver out of the corner of her eye as something, rather someone tried to skirt their way out of Fallon’s line of sight. 

That was when Fallon felt it: the pull of otherworldly energy calling to her from across their former campsite. Slowly, Fallon turned her body as she searched for the campsite for the source. When she found it, Fallon inhaled sharply and nausea immediately began roiling in her stomach.

Gale. 

Not only that, but if the silver glow surrounding his body was any indication, he was a god. The man she loved more than anything had succeeded in his quest to reforge The Crown of Karsus and seize its power for himself. He’d gotten what he wanted, while she’d been left behind wondering what could have been. Shadowheart was at her side in an instant, and Fallon gripped her friend’s arm to steady herself and keep her entire body from trembling at the sight of him. 

“How long has he been here?” Fallon asked quietly. 

“Just long enough for Astarion to tell him to stay away from you.” Shadowheart rested her hand over Fallon’s.

As though he’d heard his name, Astarion appeared in front of Fallon, blocking her from Gale’s line of sight. “Are you okay? Say the word and I’ll take you home.” 

“No,” Fallon shook her head, closing her eyes. She was not okay, but she also wasn’t going to run away. “I’m not leaving. Remember what Shadowheart said before we came here? If I leave, he wins. I’m not letting him win.” 

“Are you sure?” Astarion asked, concern etched across his face. 

“I’m not leaving.” Fallon reiterated, as deja vu flooded her system and reminded her that she, Astarion, and Shadowheart had a similar exchange once where she refused to leave a location because of Gale. Only back then, it was at the Stormshore Tabernacle, and instead of waiting for Gale to leave before departing herself, she was waiting to leave until he returned from being summoned by Mystra.

Astarion sighed. “Okay. Just say the word though–”

“I’m fine, Astarion.” Fallon snapped. She was not fine, and they both knew it, but Fallon was too stubborn to admit it. Fallon released her grip on Shadowheart’s arm and took a long drink from her wine bottle, closing her eyes as she willed the alcohol to bring her to peaceful oblivion where she was unbothered by Gale’s presence. If Shadowheart and Astarion exchanged any looks, she did not see it. 

Fallon needed a distraction. Something stronger than wine, and when she turned to walk away from Astarion and Shadowheart as she lowered the bottle from her mouth, her eyes landed on the tall, broad figure of Halsin standing by the fire. 

A distraction, indeed. 

Fallon sauntered over to the druid with a coy smile on her face. “Hi friend.” She greeted like she hadn’t been speaking to him for half the night already. She stumbled slightly in her drunkenness, and her free hand instinctively reached for Halsin’s abnormally large bicep to steady herself, and the druid’s hands instinctively went to her waist to steady her. Fallon giggled. “My hero! I would have Fallon into the fire if you weren’t here. Wait– did I say Fallon instead of fallen? I’m Fallon.”

Halsin laughed softly, shaking his head. “Yes you are, friend. You’re also very drunk,” The druid’s hands dropped from her waist as soon as he was sure that Fallon was steady on her feet. “I take it you’ve had a good evening? The presence of a certain wizard hasn’t soured your mood?” 

“What wizard? There are no wizards here– just gods and mortals,” Fallon slurred, rolling her eyes. “My evening has been lovely, thank you. It’s been so good to see…well, almost everyone again. Could’ve done without Volo crashing. Or the god. Though I could think of a few ways it could be better.” She took another swig from her wine bottle as she eyed Halsin mischievously, like a cat circling in on a mouse. 

Halsin raised an eyebrow at her with a wary look on his face. “Oh?” 

Fallon stepped closer to Halsin, and as she did so, her eyes found Gale’s. Fallon inhaled sharply at the intensity of his gaze. He was watching her. Good. She turned her attention back to Halsin with a smile. “I seem to recall a time when you wanted to lay beneath the stars with me,” She placed her free hand on Halsin’s broad chest. “How about you and I find a place to watch the stars later…just the two of us?” Fallon bit her lip in a suggestive manner, her lips curling into a smirk as she eyed the druid.

Halsin covered Fallon’s hand on his chest with his own, and brought her hand to his mouth, kissing the back of it softly before redirecting her hand to her side and releasing it. “Flattered as I am that you sought me out, you have had quite a lot to drink this evening. I cannot in good conscience take you to bed in this condition,” The look on his face could only be described as gentle disappointment, like he was about to scold a child, not reject a fully grown woman’s advances. “However if, when you are sound of mind, this conversation comes back to you and you have sorted everything out with Gale and Astarion, you know where to find me.” 

Fallon stared at Halsin in confusion as he took a step back from her. “What do you mean? Sorted things out with Gale and Astarion?” 

Halsin chuckled. “It’s not often that one finds themself in a position where a god is ready to smite me where I stand and a vampire prepared to rip out my throat simply for placing my hands on a woman’s waist, but that is what just occurred,” He shrugged. “So you tell me.” 

With that, he bade her goodnight and Fallon was left alone by the fire, pouting and confused. Across the flames, she saw Gale again, and he looked smug. It was possible that was just his face now that he was a god, but even in her inebriated condition, Fallon had a feeling that wasn’t the case. Fallon downed the rest of her wine bottle and tossed it into the dirt with a soft thud before storming over to the god. 

“I wondered if I’d see you here,” Gale greeted her with a smile far too smug for someone who was seeing his ex-girlfriend for the first time in six months after abandoning her. “I imagine this must be quite a shock. Whatever you’re feeling, do not be afraid. I’m still me…just an improved version.” 

Fallon stared at Gale, stunned into silence at how casual he was being. “So you did it then. You became a god?”

“I told you I would, didn’t I?” Fallon hated the condescending smirk on Gale’s face. No, this was most definitely not an “improved” version of Gale by any means– Fallon knew that and she’d only been in his presence for less than thirty seconds.

“Was it worth it? Is godhood everything you dreamed it would be, despite what you had to give up?” Fallon asked him. 

“Of course it was worth it– it’s not like I had to give up anything of consequence. I had nothing. Spurned by my goddess, my power all but depleted, my reputation destroyed… That’s what I gave up when I reforged the crown.” 

“And me.” She muttered, her eyes dropping to the dirt beneath their feet. His words stung, and Fallon could feel the anger bubbling within her. 

“Sorry, what was that? I may be a god now but that doesn’t mean my hearing has improved.” Gale chuckled jokingly, completely oblivious to the fact that he’d upset her at all. 

“I said ‘and me.’ You had me, Gale. Though from the sound of it, I was nothing of consequence and meant nothing to you, so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised at how easy it was for you to give me up.” When she looked back up at him, fiery drunken anger shone in her eyes. 

Gale looked completely taken back by her outburst, and the mask of the confident god faltered. “Fallon, I– I did this for you. I told you that I needed to reforge the crown, then I could give you everything.” 

“Don’t. Don’t fucking lie to me. You did not do this for me. You were only thinking of yourself. If you were thinking of me, you never would have left me behind in the first place,” Fallon spat, and she reached forward to shove Gale as her anger manifested physically. The god of ambition was unmoved by her attempt to shove him. She was not sure when it happened, but Fallon had begun crying. “You were everything to me, and I meant nothing to you.” 

Gale tried to take a step towards her, reaching for her, but Fallon stepped back and out of his reach. “Don’t fucking touch me!” She yelled. As though he’d been waiting in the shadows for this very moment, Astarion appeared almost out of thin air and he stepped between Gale and Fallon.

“Back up, wizard.” He snarled at Gale, placing a hand on Gale’s chest as a warning to not take another step.

Gale tilted his head, his gaze flitting back and forth between Astarion and Fallon, then a look of understanding passed over his face. Gale’s nostrils flared as he scoffed.  “Well you certainly didn’t waste any time, did you?” He quipped to Astarion, causing the vampire to get right in his face. 

“Walk away, Gale. Now. Need I remind you that this very specific group of people have taken on the effigies of four different gods, and won?” Astarion threatened, and Fallon glanced around only to realize that the rest of their companions had gathered behind her– every single one of them ready to back Astarion if a fight broke out. 

Gale looked at his former companions, assessing the situation carefully. Then, slowly, he raised his hands in defeat and backed up. “As you wish. It was time for me to return to the heavens anyhow,” Gale’s eyes fell on Fallon and he looked at her longingly. “I truly did come here ready to offer you everything. How unfortunate that I believed you would wait for me.”

With a glow of ethereal light, Gale disappeared, and Fallon immediately collapsed into Astarion’s arms as sobs wracked through her body as their companions surrounded her. “I hate him,” She sobbed into Astarion’s chest. “I hate him.”  

Those three words were the only ones she knew as Astarion carried her back to Baldur’s Gate via the portal they arrived through, back to The Elfsong Tavern and up to the suite. She repeated her mantra as she allowed Astarion to help her change into a set of night clothes Shadowheart found while cleaning, and as he helped her into bed. 

“I hate him” was the last thing she said before she passed out in Astarion’s arms, curled up against his side. 

The headache was what woke her bright and early the next morning, followed by the nausea. Then the panic set in as she tried to remember the events of the previous evening, but her memory failed her completely. 

“The last thing I remember was talking to Lae’zel about Shadowheart moving in with her, and that was…pretty early in the evening?” She asked Astarion for confirmation, and he nodded. 

“Jesus…” Fallon paused for a moment, chewing on her lip as she tried to remember, but nothing came. “Did–did he show up?” 

Astarion was quiet for a moment, but then he sighed and shook his head. “No, darling. He didn’t come.” 

Of course he didn’t. Fallon blinked back the tears that formed in the corner of her eyes. “He’s never coming home, is he?” She said more to herself than to Astarion, and Astarion, bless him, seemed to know this, so he did not answer her. 

“I want to be alone, please.” Fallon said quietly as she laid back down on the bed, pulling the covers up to her chin. “Please, Astarion.” 

The vampire surveyed his friend silently, as though he were trying to figure out if she meant her words or not. “Alright. Shall I come by later to check in?” He asked as he rose from the bed..

Fallon shook her head. “I’ll call you if I need you. Promise.” She nodded her head towards the sending stone on her bedside table. 

Astarion nodded and began walking to the bedroom door, but he stopped halfway to the door and turned back to look at Fallon. “He never deserved you.” Astarion said softly. 

As he exited, he noticed the purple tunic Fallon had been wearing when he and Shadowheart arrived sitting on the top of a pile of dirty clothes, and in a split second decision, Astarion checked to make sure Fallon wasn’t watching before swiping the tunic from the top of the pile with the intention of throwing it away the second he passed a garbage bin outside the Elfsong Tavern. 

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #gale dekarios #gale #gale of waterdeep #astarion #bg3 fanfic #female tav #gale x tav #astarion x tav #bg3 astarion #astarion bg3 #bg3 fan fiction #bg3 fanfiction #baldur's gate 3 fanfic #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction

[satanicspinosaurus]

Seconds

Tags: Bloodweave, Gale’s cooking, blood, cow’s blood, gift giving, fluff, getting together, after a break up, basically two hungry and scared people trying to figure out the world, Gale’s POV, so enjoy all his insecurities, and some verbose writing choices that are intentional, Astarion snark, kissing, ear touching, frankly you can read half of this as a metaphor for sex, author can’t stop you, author thinks it would be a mistake though 

Length: 2k

Rating: Teen

Read on A03: here.

Summary: Gale and Astarion had struck up a friendship after a failed night of romance. Now, with the Netherbrain fight around the corner, Gale finds his heart still aches to give Astarion any scrap of happiness he can offer. This is a story about a man made of failures and hunger, trying to be a good friend. It begins with a steak. And ends with this most delicious second course.

With thanks: To my dear friend @lumienyx, who is frankly encouraging my bullshit at an alarming rate. And to the lovely @tragedybunny who hunted down the typos and errors on this like Tara feasting on pigeons. 

•・・・◉・・・•

Gale rummaged through the spice cabinet of the Inn. He was pleased to see that the cook, who had allowed him to slip her a few gold coins for access and privacy, had managed to craft a solid selection. The sprig rosemary seemed a touch too on the nose, so he grabbed a little bundle of thyme instead- striping it into the butter as the filet sizzled in the cast iron skillet.

It was a delicate process, mainly because he was aiming for as close to rare as humanly possible to achieve. It didn’t give him much time to develop a proper crust, but as Gale spooned the butter back onto the filet, he also pulled from the Weave. Perhaps he asked more than normally would be needed for a simple cantrip. But he needed to infuse all the wonderful things Astarion deserved to taste in it. 

Astarion meandered in a few moments later, when Gale had plated it and was intensely overseeing the food resting as if he could personally will it to perfection. 

The vampire gave a sharp tut after observing the scene, perhaps annoyed his entrance hadn’t been noted. 

“When you said you had a surprise for me to try, darling, I assumed it would be something that would make me interested in swallowing,” the vampire finally said to announce his presence.  

Gale looked up brightly at where the playful swatting came from, a warm smile breaking onto his face. He laid the best knife and fork he could find near the plate and pushed it forward.  

“Ah, trust me my dear friend,” Gale encouraged. “I do believe I have made some acceptable advances since the last time you tried my cooking.” 

That had been back when Astarion was still trying to hide what, and more importantly, who he was. Perhaps it had helped in the long run though. It had taught Gale that Astarion could put a wide variety of things in his mouth and pretend to love it. Later, after sampling a decent red Astarion claimed to be vinegar, Gale had come to the quick conclusion that vampirism negatively affected the culinary practice of taste. 

The idea was tantalizing to him. In part because no bestiary had even half the details he could observe in a single evening around Astarion. But he also hoped to reach past the honeyed words for the real truth. 

He was curious, in particular, about why Astartion still attempted to drink wine. It said something about appetite that felt vaguely nostalgic to Gale. 

But then Tav, who had uncritically eaten up Astarion’s sweet smiles and words at the party, eagerly indulged in their place of origin first. Gale didn't feel hurt that Astarion preferred someone else's straightforward affection over his own questions. The tadpoles had made their timelines risky and fortune favored the bold. 

It was a short thing, in the end though. After one encounter, Tav ultimately found her heart lay more with Karlach’s wholesome sweetness. It was better fit for her than wrestling with the delicate halflies that laid nestled to hide half-truths in Astarion’s heart. If it had hurt him, the vampire hadn’t let on, going back to mulling around the camp with hungry eyes and talking of desires. 

And once again, Gale was left turning over the dozens of little curious details about appetite Astarion occasionally dropped; trying to lay them out and find the bigger picture. Gale had been too confident of his ability to uncover that truth once again. Astarion’s sudden thrust backing onto the dating scene hadn’t struck him as quite so desperate, but a beautiful mystery he alone could solve.

He was grateful his hubris had at least allowed him the chance of friendship with Astarion. Rather than once again stripping him of everything when he inevitably failed. No, he savored the friendship he was allowed. Even if, quietly, his heart still wanted to give Astarion all the beauty his mind could dream of and his hands could weave. 

The food was a meager offering, really, but the wizard was happy to see Astarion shrug and sit down to try it. 

Maybe it wasn’t everything Gale had dreamed of in his books to see a bit of excitement build on the man’s face when he delicately sniffed his offering. He was not worthy of giving a thousand days and nights of little pleasures to anyone, it would seem. But, oh, if his heart didn’t flutter a bit at how Astarion’s eyes widened slightly when he gracefully cut into the steak and a weave-enhanced aroma wafted up. 

Gale had truly grown to enjoy his time spent in friendship with the pale elf. He was a stellar, if not acerbic, conversationalist. And the only other person at camp that enjoyed books beyond bawdy romances. Astarion was a person Gale could imagine being around every day for decades without it ever becoming boring. Well, assuming Gale wouldn’t be left alone because the vampire wandered off to find more interesting company than a stuffy wizard. 

At least for now, sometimes he’d say something clever and elicit a sharp grin. Or he’d make a genuine offer to want to properly introduce Astarion to Tara once this was all over, and something soft would grow on the man’s face before he schooled it away. Hells, even walking around Baldur’s Gate and just commenting on architecture with him made Gale desperate to show Astarion Waterdeep.  

It was clear his dear friend had a taste for the finer things in life, but had been left starved. Gale wanted to lay out a banquet for him, to hear his commentary and innovate until he found satisfaction. It was a beautiful thought for the future, but that was a thing still being written. 

Gale needed to try and take that joy and give it in lump sum, lest the worst happened tomorrow. There were notes in his pack on leads Astarion could begin searching down for help finding a place in the sunlight, that he’d entrust to a messenger soon. A desperate letter to his mother, hoping she would extend the clan’s aid to his dear friend. A few letters of introduction that Gale prayed would be enough to get Astarion a chance to observe rare books at Candlekeep if he so needed.  

In the meantime, Gale had but this moment. Watching Astarion primly take a bite of the filet and chew as if he was a bit out of practice. 

This wasn’t the first time Gale had cooked something special for someone - he had a sophomoric idea of what facial expressions to expect. Like always, Astarion didn’t disappoint though with novelty. There was a strange look on his face; emotions roiling so intensely nothing had a beginning nor end. 

“This is shit,” Astarion eventually hissed. 

Gale offered up open palms, apologetic shoulders, and the broken in, embarrassed smile of a man so used to his reach exceeding his grasp in anything that truly mattered. 

“I’m sorry,” he began. “You don’t have to finish it–” 

Astarion looked him dead in the eye. When he had Gale's full attention, he stabbed the piece of meat like it had been carved from Cazador himself. He brought it to his mouth and bit down. Hard. Hard enough Gale could hear the cutlery screech in protest. 

Astarion was a messy eater- a man of singularly devouring hunger. The blood from the filet trickled down his chin, to his chest, marking him temporarily like Gale’s own source of perverse appetite.

Gale watched him swallow and ruminate. 

“This tastes like goodbye,” the man drawled, eyes pinning Gale to his spot. “I don’t like it.” 

Gale smiled, trying to ignore the first thing and address only the second. 

“Well, sometimes experiments don’t always work out,” he began to affably ramble. “I did believe that a few uses of prestidigitation would help overcome your normally exclusively sanguine diet, but I would still appreciate if you could offer some notes-” 

While Gale had been prattling about cantrips, Astarion had decided to switch from rumination to predation. He had gotten up, head refusing to move as he stalked towards Gale like a cat fixated on a songbird. The vampire pounced, slamming the wizard into the cabinets. All it took was a bold hand wrenching one wrist up above his head and a tongue thrust into his mouth to strip him of his power, his self-image as Gale of Waterdeep. 

Astarion devoured Gale Dekarios’ mouth, eating up the moans his actions elicited.  

After a second or eternity, the poor man wasn’t sure which, Astarion broke away to let Gale pant. 

“I want seconds,” Astarion commanded, his other hand running down a thigh- barely keeping to a space that wouldn’t be scandalous if someone walked in. 

Gale tried to master his fluttering heart, to let it accept air and nourishment so it would stop screaming in his chest almost loud enough that it drowned out the orb. 

“You don’t,” he gasped, licking his lips before trying again. “You said you don’t do seconds.” 

That was one of the first, sharp pieces of truth Astarion had flung at him, after their night of gentle love making had cracked through a mask made to suffer only harsh blows. 

People don’t use me twice, he had lilted in the morning. After he had time to lick the wounds Gale’s gentle praise had inflicted and compose himself back to untouchable beauty. Go find someone you can wake up with a thousand times. 

That was back when Astarion wasn’t sure if he would be free, but Gale was still hopeful a solution was available for his own woes. Now things had changed. 

Gale felt the grip on his wrist tighten. Nails that bit into his skin, fearful that without the contact there would be nothing. It was the touch of a man who had rejected the stolen pleasures of ascending, and now wished to ground himself in freely offered affections. 

“I didn’t want you to die,” Astarion offered quietly as his body screamed in accordance. “But I am realizing now that not dying is second to living.” 

Gale wanted to soothe away the worry on the man's face. To cradle the pressed brow gently and let it entrust all its worries to him. But Astarion held him firm. No matter - Gale always had a clever tongue.

"With the number of threats our group has managed to vanquish in the last tenday alone, I think our odds are very good at succeeding, Astarion."

Astarion laughed, letting go of Gale’s wrist to poke at the site where the orb marked him. “I know this is your back-up plan, Gale. Maybe you’ll blow yourself up if we struggle too much against the Netherbain. Maybe you’ll let Mystra own you to remove it. Or she’ll use it as a threat to bargain against your interest in the Crown. But I am tired of petty tyrants’ wants and demands.” 

“She’s a Goddess, Astarion, it’s not remotely-” Gale tried to interject. 

Astarion didn’t even dignify that with a verbal response. He simply looked at Gale, eyes flickering from where the orb burned him to his own, violently marked neck. Astarion knew what manufactured pain was, appetites unanswered. It was why they spoke so easily, they shared this perverse second language. 

“You deserve a choice too,” Astarion eventually said. 

The first kiss in the kitchen was Astarion’s - passionate and aggressive to hide the tenderness it came from. The second was Gale’s - slow and soft, an adventure that ended with being more daring by the hearth. They weren’t so different. Both had left a man gasping for more, a hand traveling to places to hint at encores. 

Astarion leaned into the way Gale’s fingers gripped his curls, the pad of his thumb ever so slightly brushing against his ear in a way that would barely be considered scandalous if anyone ever came in. 

“What if I wanted to choose a second Mr. Dekarios?” Gale whispered. 

Astarion had a talent for saying one thing, but meaning another. It was intoxicating to Gale. The way he could roll his eyes and bring up a lip in a perfect sneer that to an onlooker signaled disgust embodied, a hint of fang and claws coming out. But oh, if the man wasn’t still tender to the touch- a gentle weight that was as inviting as his words were barbed. A secret laid out only for him to discover.

“Well, you should probably get better at cooking, darling. I have no clue how you plan to catch any self-respecting man in your current situation.” 

His hungry red eyes glanced down to a plate that was empty. 

“I, for one, have standards,” Astarion said softly. 

Gale was a man of great pride. It was tempting to press back, to needle the vampire. Perhaps to bring a thumb to wipe up the blood that was still shining on his neck and watch the man lick it off before calling him on the falsehood. 

But on second thought, Gale also desperately needed to close his eyes and believe in the magic of being allowed this close again. He leaned his brow to Astarion’s to give a kiss to the naked skin he found. Not to soothe away the way the vampire had his eyebrows furrowed in concern of being seen. But as a promise he loved this too and wanted it just as much as every other part of him. 

“I look forward to learning about every single one, no matter how small or obscure,” he promised. “I will ascribe them upon my heart, and treasure each word as a gift.” 

Astarion looked at him, searching for the lie. Gale was granted the privilege of watching his eyes grow soft with the knowledge that the wizard was as sincere as he was loquacious.

Then, he had the thrill of watching a vampire who had recently declared he wanted to start living realize he was ravenous.

And that Gale was the perfect second course for this evening and many more to come. 

︶꒦꒷❤︎꒷꒦︶

Author Notes: Thank you for reading this! As always, I would like to remind you thirsty folks to hydrate a bit if needed. Although I suppose for this fic, maybe encouraging you to get a snack would be more appropriate! 

Please let me know if you enjoyed the pun in the tags. :P 

Hopefully this is the start of a solid writing month for me. I'm going to be aiming to put out something each Monday.

#astarion #bg3 astarion #fanfic #bloodweave #fluff #SpinoWrites #yes I do cook a lot #I imagine Gale's love language includes gift giving #I think he learned it from Tara #technically its not blood that comes out of steak when you bite it btw #its myogoblin #But its a protein and iron and looks vaguely like blood so enjoy

[parvulous-writings]

Oooh, I have a request idea!! How about Gale, Halsin, Astarion and Wyll or Karlach (if that's not too many ;-;) with a modern S/O from our world that makes them try a bunch of food from this dimension. I'd love to see their reaction to trying Soda or other Carbonated Beverages, and naturally seeing everyone's reaction to canned food - especially the kind that stays in the exact shape of the can even after you dump it into a bowl 🤣

Just imagine giving them this bad boy and being like "Bon appetit!" :D

I like to think they'd be horrified 🥰 Thank you so much !!

Summary: I do love me a little whimsical AU, I can't lie - so this MAY go into the realms of silly, but you know what? It's going to be fun! It also may be a bit all over the place... but you know what I think it fits XD The scenario is kinda the same for all of them - I hope that's okay!

Warnings: Some are a bit shorter/longer than others! Other than that... I don't think there's anything!

Notes:  My requests are currently open! My pinned post (found here) contains both a list of characters I write for, and a masterlist!  Original character list - please request for these too!

Gale

Out of everyone, Gale would probably be the most at-ease with you coming from another realm - he finds it absolutely fascinating.

He's asking questions all the time - is there magic in your universe? No?? What do you do, then??

You tell him about technology, and he is hooked. You start talking about electricity and immediately he's taking notes (mental or physical).

"I think I might actually have something you can try, Gale" you pull out of your pack a can of Coke (that somehow had survived the trip), and a tin of cranberry sauce that you had hoped to take home, before being whisked away to the land of Faerun. You offer him the can, and he just stares at it for a moment, observing it.

"And... what is this, exactly?" "It's a drink." "I fail to see how-" click "... Ah"

Isn't sure how the bubbles feel on his tongue - he almost spits out the drink the first mouthful he has. Doesn't mind the taste itself though - he would probably drink it flat, if he had the choice to.

"It's... Nice..." He seems mildly uncertain of this statement. "Though, I think I will stick to wine, and water..."

You telling him you can preserve food in metal near indefinitely? Pure 'teach me' moment. He will want to know EVERY secret on that front.

The tin of sauce confuses him. You tell him that it's sauce and he's eager to taste it - he's always on the look out for new flavours, as the self-declared cook in camp. Fish and potatoes can only keep you going for so long, until your tongue starts craving a new flavour.

When you present the unchanging... thing to him, he has no idea what to make of it. "That's... Not sauce. In fact, I don't even think that's edible - that looks like a health hazard."

He straight up refuses to use it that night, like he will not go near it, nor will he let it near the food.

Halsin

Halsin doesn't really talk about you being from another realm all that much - it doesn't overly concern him, now that you've got his trust.

He likes hearing stories of your life -even though you have to explain 90% of what you talk about to him, he's always eagerly listening to whatever you have to say.

Will not touch anything in a can - drink or otherwise.

"I... Do not feel right in trying this... my apologies."

You will not be able to convince him, whatever you try and do, he just... Doesn't want to listen to anything about that. If you keep trying to push him on the subject, he'll probably end up just walking away.

Though he's aware that preserving foods is probably a good idea for the long run, but after having heard the fizz from the can of coke? That's... A no go, for the time being.

Astarion

Astarion couldn't care less where you came from - so long as you're not going to stab him in the back, he's fine with you. You could be a crawling claw for all he cares - so long as you don't hurt him he really does not care.

Astarion doesn't typically eat anything other than his usual sanguine meals now that his affliction is out in the camp. This doesn't stop him from making snide comments on the food, though. And he makes especially snide comments when it comes to drinks - which he still partakes in quite happily.

"What do you mean... Fizzy?" His lips draw up slightly in a half-sneer, not being particularly drawn to the idea of... Whatever it was you were offering him. Though, he supposed, because it was you... He'd give it a go.

He manages to keep the beverage in his mouth after a sip, but the face he makes is beyond a grimace - clearly, he was not expecting that many bubbles.

Now when it came to the tinned sauce - or any tinned food for that matter... He'll simply laugh. "Now, I know we're short on supplies, darling, but... I don't think you'll get anyone to eat that." "Let me put it this way... If something like that was for my meal, I'd be running for the hills! ... And probably washing my mouth out with soap..."

"I am so glad I do not have to pretend I'm eating with you... Because that-" He points emphatically to the can-shaped food. "Would not, and will not, be going anywhere near my lips!"

Wyll

Wyll is curious about the realm you come from, but doesn't normally pry. He figures that, if you're going to reveal anything about your home land, you'll do it in your own time, when you're comfortable. If you start talking about your home and your life, Wyll will do the same, to show that he's not taking the conversation for granted.

Wyll actually LIKES carbonated beverages. He savours the feel on his tongue - it's like nothing else he's ever had before, and he's instantly wanting more. If you ever do figure out the realm-hopping thing, you'll have to bring him some more - possibly some different brands or flavours for him to try.

"So... These beverages... They can... Taste of flowers, and other delightful things?" Wyll hums pleasantly at this thought. "Well, I know we have... Similar things, here in Faerun, but I am most intrigued on your realms' flavours... As pleasant as it all can be, you can only handle so much of the same..."

Though canned food doesn't.... Really seem appealing to him, he'll still give it a good try! He's down to try any food at least once.

He's not keen on the appearance of the cranberry sauce, but he has some with some turkey you've roasted, and he's in love with the taste. Sure, the appearance could use some work, but beggars can't always be choosers - at least it tasted delicious!

Absolutely LOVES tinned vegetables. He's not sure why - he knows they've got a very different taste and texture to their fresher counterpart, but... There's just something about them that he can't get enough of. Tinned carrots especially.

If you give him the chance - and Gale for once isn't trying to make dinner - Wyll will try and find a way to include tinned foods. He will get everyone to like them, he's certain of it.

Karlach

Karlach LOVES hearing anything and everything about your home realm - from the mundane to the even mundane-r. You have a special tub to bathe in, not made from wood? And it has running water, like a river, that you can control?? That's one of the coolest things Karlach has heard of - and she longs for a way to try and bring that kind of plumbing to Faerun.

Karlach isn't fussed on the Coke can you offer her - she'll drink it, for sure, but if there's the option of another drink, then she'll probably opt for that first. Purely for the reason that it's a relatively new sensation compared to the other kinds of fizzy found in drinks across Faerun.

Like, fermentation has a kick, but in comparison, carbonation is a roar, that Karlach needs a little adjusting to - she has the best reaction out of the lot of them, I think.

"Whoo- that's... Hah, that's something, soldier... And how often do you drink this? Once a day? ... Several? Several cans of this a day?" She laughs quietly, shaking her head. "You're braver than me at some things, soldier."

However, when it comes to tinned food... She loves it. She's not even sure why - perhaps it's just the fact that she loves food. You show her the sauce first, and she doesn't even bat an eye at the fact that the sauce had retained the shape of the can. She sniffs at it, before just picking it up and taking a bite.

"A little sharp... But not bad!" Another bite. "You're meant to eat that with meat, Karlach," "Huh? .... Ah, well - still tastes good like this!"

She's not as fond of tinned veggies, but she'll still eat them. Normally dinner will now start with. "Aw, what? Don't we have anymore of that red stuff?"

#requests open #x reader requests #fluff #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate x reader #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 headcanons #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 gale #baldur's gate gale #Gale #gale x reader #gale of waterdeep x reader #astarion #astarion x reader #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #astarion baldurs gate #karlach #karlach bg3 #karlach x reader #wyll x reader #bg3 wyll #wyll ravengard #halsin bg3 #halsin baldur's gate 3 #halsin headcanons #halsin x reader

[rattusn0rvegicus]

WIP scene from my Bladeweave fic, Supernova:

--

“What, exactly, is the abacus for?” Gale asks, arching an eyebrow as he slides the multicoloured beads around, and they clack into each other. 

“It’s for calculations,” Wyll says, stilling Gale’s hand. “And I was working on one, so don’t mess around with it.” 

“I know it’s for–” Gale sighs, stepping back. “Alright, alright. I meant, why did you bring it?”

“Oh! Right. Wizard school and all that. Wait, do you learn maths in wizard school?” 

“Some,” Gale says, chuckling. “It was never my strong suit.”

Wyll looks so unsurprised, Gale almost takes offence. “As for your original question,” Wyll says, flicking the beads back to their original positions, “it’s… comforting for me. Keeps my mind sharp. It’s the language of the cosmos, mathematics.” 

Gale raises his eyebrows at that. “Well, you can’t just say something so delightful and leave it at that! Do go on!” 

“Ah, I mean,” Wyll flushes, scratching at his head. “It’s everywhere, really. Numbers, patterns, geometric figures. Have you ever looked at a snowflake under a magnifying glass?” He doesn’t wait for Gale to answer, just explains, breathlessly, “It has six symmetrical branches, every time, though each one in unique. And there’s a sequence found in nature, where each number is the sum of the two preceding numbers, starting from zero and one–” he motions for Gale to follow him into the adjacent field as he talks. “The numbers following are two, three, five, eight, thirteen, and so on – look to the lilies with three petals, geraniums with five and daisies have thirty-four, by the way, another number in the sequence,” he picks flowers as he goes, placing them in Gale’s hands. 

Gale trots along besides him, beaming as Wyll talks, trying to follow what he’s saying, his fondness growing with every word. “This sequence is everywhere – the branching of the trees, the spirals of pinecones - look, it’s even in the spirals on the central disk of that daisy. And– and, when you approximate this sequence geometrically, it creates a spiral that resembles that of galaxies. It’s all connected, Gale, all of it.” 

“Mathematics, then, it’s like the Weave,” Gale breathes, feeling his heart swell. “It’s the undercurrent tying everything together into a harmonious existence. And you can orchestrate it, like I orchestrate magic.”

“Yes!” Wyll says. “Yes, exactly, you’ve put it beautifully!”

“I can’t believe you’re getting me all enthused about my least favourite subject.” 

Wyll laughs, and flops down in the field of flowers, a cloud of pollen bursting out around him. Gale crouches down beside him, slowly shifting into a laying position, wincing slightly before looking up at the sky. An arm of stars stretches out above them, bathing the world in a soft light.

“That’s not all, though. Those spiral galaxies I was talking about, the ones that resemble that same geometric sequence? They result from the gravitational pull of a nearby galaxy. They only exist in such a beautiful form, because of the influence of another.” 

Wyll looks at him, reaching his hand out towards Gale’s. His heart begins to race, and he closes the gap, lacing their fingers together. Gale feels his cheeks flush, and hopes the darkness conceals it. He squeezes Wyll’s hand, and Wyll squeezes back, smiling softly.

“You know, you’re one such galaxy I’d love to be fundamentally changed by,” Gale blurts out. He shifts closer, turning on his side, towards Wyll.

“Yeah?” Wyll leans his forehead against Gale’s, and Gale closes his eyes, caressing the back of Wyll’s head, kissing him gently. Wyll let’s out a little “oh”. His lips are soft, and Wyll runs his fingers through Gale’s hair, sending a shiver down his spine.

“Yeah.”

#Bladeweave #My writing #supernova #Gale dekarios #Wyll ravengard #My fic

[zigraves]

2023 Zi-writes-fic list

I've put nothing on Ao3 since 2014, when I basically stopped writing fanfic for the better part of a decade. And then Baldur's Gate 3 happened, and suddenly I'm writing again in volume!

So here's what's happened this year, almost all of which is canon-compliant or strongly canon-adjacent unless otherwise stated:

September:

A Soft Caress; As Cold As Death - my return to writing fic, with a multichapter M-rated postgame. Astarion/Halsin dealing with grief and circling back to a relationship with each other after their shared Tav died.

Overhear More In Changing - hopping onto the Bloodweave train with what appears to be the fandom's first body-swap fic! E-rated for a mind-meld activities, and the first of what will turn out to be quite a few bloodweave fics.

October:

Just Leap The Flames - having come from the TF2 fandom back in the day, naturally I could not resist having two sad old warriors find a bit of solace together for a night. E-rated Halsin/ Zevlor, featuring sore bones and bad hips.

Unexpected Terrain - a short bit of E-rated porn with a reasonable amount of feelings attached, featuring a trans Gale and an Astarion who's definitely got some issues around power and autonomy. Astarion's tendency to stay clothed and distant from his partner is at this point becoming a running theme.

Enchanting Silver - Bloodweave again, this time with a magic mirror gift for Astarion, and only M-rated for suggestiveness.

Seen, Seen, Seen - breaking up the smut and suggestiveness with a T-rated character study comparing Halsin and Astarion's responses to trauma and how it's shaped them as characters.

Come To Mind - staying T-rated, a bit of mild whump as Gale loses his mind and has to piece together who, or what, he is - and what relationship he has to these strangers around him.

November:

Rest, Indulge - back to E-ratings with a slow, indulgent, postgame bit of bloodweave consensual somnophilia. Come for the smut, stay for the breakfast sandwiches.

Myrtle, Ozone, Iron - M-rated for canon-expected depictions of violence, this ongoing fic leans into Astarion's reliance on scripts and his struggle with social interactions that fall outside his 200 years of rote experience.

December:

Strigil - E-rated again, as Gale has a miserable time in the Shadowlands and Astarion has a solution to his laundry problems. Readers may notice, once again, Astarion sublimating some Personal Issues via Gale.

Steady, Steady - dropping down to a nice friendly T-rating for what appears to be the first Halsin & Karlach friendfic in the fandom. Halsin teaches Karlach to whittle!

You Into Me - back up to E-rating for tadpole-based psychic codependency and a dose of hurt-comfort, written for a Bloodweave Secret Santa event.

Sherry - a G-rated offering at last, as Wyll ponders how much humanity he has left in the company of one who knows all too well what it's like to made into something monstrous.

Glass - a second dose of Wyllstarion, an as-yet-unrated Cinderella story written for the Wyllstarion server's "Fairy Tale" prompt. More to come on this one, and you can expect canon-typical violence and hurt/comfort to be added to the tags when Chapter 2 comes.

So! That brings my 2023 to an end.

After so long writing little to no fic, and barely even picking at my own original writing, it's been so good finally having something that sets my brain back to words again. I hope you enjoy it, and I promise to finish both Glass and Myrtle, Ozone, Iron in the New Year.

I'd put up a rec list, but good gods - there are so many talented writers in this fandom that I'd hardly know where to start!

#still haven't finished those kar'niss fics #zi writes fic #bg3 fanfiction

[transprincecaspian]

Kyr Farwhisper - The Dark Urge

"Everyone has unseemly thoughts. Being able to quieten them is what sets us apart from the beasts."

Sharing some screenshots from my Dark Urge playthrough, which has just about hit 21 hours. BE WARNED. EVERYTHING BELOW THE READ-MORE LINE IS SPOILERS FOR THE DARK URGE PLAYTHROUGH. There is spoiler content, gore, and violence beyond! I tag with "#durge spoilers" if you want to block.

[Narrator: *You have nothing in your skull, besides your name and a headache. But you are in danger.*

Curse whoever did this to you.

Say your name aloud. You have a part of yourself.

Take a deep breath, shake your head, and start anew.]

The Dark Urge, in my opinion, is an origin that is preferable even to the custom ones that a player can make. Like the origins we get from the other PCs, such as Shadowheart or Astarion, there are custom cutscenes, content, and dialogue options specifically tailored to the Haunted past that you bring to the party. The Dark Urge isn't a play-through I would recommend if you want the feeling of a Noble, Righteous Hero. In some ways, it can be very stereotypically "edgelord"; you have little memory of your past, and are prone to violent and grotesque proclivities.

I suppose if you wanted to truly run an evil route and see how many dear companions you could kill along the way, you could play this route as Indulgent, or giving into the Dark Urge. I chose to play Kyr as a hopeless struggle; he is frightened by himself, and does his best to resist his dark temptations and try to do good. Resistance. It's made for a delightfully fulfilling roleplay experience, especially because I have chosen to romance Wyll on this play-through.

Even recruiting Astarion can be a little frightening.

The intro runs about the same, except when you wake up on the Nautiloid, you are bloodied, frightened, and have no memory of how you got there. In fact, there are no real signs that there is anything wrong with you, at least not in the dialogue you get until after the crash. Everyone's a little nervous, on edge, and then you have the chance to recruit Gale from his little portal. If you give into the Urge... it goes poorly. Fantasize about chopping his hand off?

I didn't make this canon for Kyr's run, but I was curious what would happen. I don't know what becomes of Gale, if you can recruit him later--if you can, how strange. You did just remove his hand for seemingly no reason. Astarion, too, has something to say about it immediately after.

This is your first sign that the Dark Urge run is going to be, well.. full of dark urges. Kyr seems to have a strange and compelling urge to commit harmful, violent acts--but doesn't seem to be aware he's doing it. I went back and he recruited Gale normally, resisting the weird desire to fantasize about chopping a man's hand off. Things were quiet--for a little bit.

Lots of dialogue choices specialized for the Dark Urge present in one of two, maybe three ways--commit this horrible act, or be shocked by your perversions and resist. Along with all of the usual options, such as based around your skill checks and your class. You have fewer culture rolls--you don't remember your past, after all (but you can imply to be Baldurian later on in Wyll's conversations, which I did). The lack of backstory and the amnesia is meant to heighten the strange horror of your situation, but I like building on what Kyr could be missing. A father, maybe, and a mother he never knew.

You can even tell Withers that you don't think your life is worth very much--something that he has a sage rebuke for. It's implied that he might know a little bit more about your circumstances than he's letting on, but if he does, he doesn't deem it fit to share with you.

Back at the camp, you do have options to speak with your party members--even so early--about your concerning affliction. Two new choices are available to you: concern about your memory loss, and concern about your violent urges. So early in the game, I decided I would start to bring up the memory loss. They are... quite flippant! And quick to dismiss your concerns on having to do with the mind-flayer tadpole.

It's late, and I'm getting sleepy, so that's all I'll add for this post. More is to come.

Part 1 | Part 2

#cas plays bg3 #oc: kyrran #oc: kyr #bg3 #bg3 spoilers #bg3 dark urge #bg3 durge #durge spoilers #bg3 oc #dark urge spoilers #baldur's gate 3 #fuck it we bhaal

[swifty-fox]

Still mota hockey au

Do you know who esle is on the team? You were sepaking of Curt (and Crosby?) But is there any other 100th with them

Croz is second string left ( bit of a grocery stick til he gets bumped from third to second with Douglass, then becomes a real Grinder)

Rosie's on first string with Buck (plays hard, passes well just an all around good guy)

Curt, final member of the first string trio (certified goon despite his height, sick dangle, nasty slapshot and his uppercut has claimed many a mans teeth)

^ original post of the AU but since this is no longer just a throwaway post lets talk about what these guys DO and also who else we got.

*cracks knuckles* its education time

So hockey is a pretty wild sport. it's fast paced as hell, few real breaks or stoppages. You can be playing for 17 minutes straight sometimes and this is active play. you are RUNNING (well, skating)

Basic setup of a team:

You've got your starting Goaltender. usually the older more experienced of the two and then a backup. Usually the starting goalie plays the whole game sometimes they switch off halfway through. backup tendy is there in case and injury happens or the starting tendy is playing a shit game. Usually they'll have extra reserves they can call up (One year Penguins had to pull their 4th level backup dude was literally away at college and had to be flown in. he was good but mad inconsistent)

Bucky is starting goaltender, his backup is Jack Kidd.

Then you have your defensemen. All hockey players are big bois usually. these guys are the big boys of the big boys. total number of D-men per play is 2 and usually a team will run the same combos of two because some guys have better chemistry than others. Usually theres 3-4 sets (or strings) of defensemen. They're categorized by skill level. So first string are the best, fourth would be worst/the new guys. Sometimes they'll switch it up and throw a new guy with first or second string so he can get some schooling

I think for Dmen first string we've got Alex and Demarco They're a solid set-up and Demarco plays REALLY well off Bucky they know where each other is instinctually.

Forwards First string are USUALLy the star players of any team. they're generally the faces of the franchise though sometimes the goaltenders fill that role too. Forwards also are a set of 3 instead of 2. Like I said above that trip is Buck, Rosie and Curt. Buck and Rosie are pretty standard forwards but Curt is a little unusual as he's also kind of the team goon (brawler)

generally D-men are the fighters. they don't tend to be high-scorers and yes Curt isn't as high scoring as Rosie or Buck but he's got a high assist score and is in a very respectable spot

(moment of appreciation for my fave Goon Reavo)

youve got two types of fights in a hockey game usually. one is very hot headed spur of the moment brawl. usually this is after a dirty hit and the refs try to break it up. What Reavo is doing here is more of a gentleman's fight. it's something both parties agree too and as you can see the refs still call and end to it but more when sensing when the guys are done. It's conducted in a certain way (holding the other guys shoulder) and hits are really only to the face. Fights are used to motivate the team and the crowd, to settle some tension or to warn a guy off of targeting a teammate.

I like Reaves cause he's a beast but he does it the right way, hes not trying to truly hurt anyone like some guys do.

Thats Curts job on top of scoring. he defends Gale a LOT

So Crosby is also a forward. His narrative is similar where he struggles a lot to find his groove and so he's third string with Bubbles and Murph at first. But part of hocky is knowing how to slot guys together so it's Gales idea to bump Crosby up to second string (so second in skill only to first string rosie curt and buck) and he does better there. He's with Douglas and Blakely

third string is Bubbles, Murph and Brady.

I think Babyface and Quinn are the two rookie defensemen

#good day when I can talk about the grim reaver #i think thats all the guys i got #mota hockey au